


Red Revival

by Alkuna



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Cruelty, F/M, Medicine Cats, Murder, Oppression, Pregnancy, Rogues (Warriors), SkyClan (Warriors), War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-11-26 09:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkuna/pseuds/Alkuna
Summary: Four survived; four of the deadliest cats ever raised from a torn and tragic kithood. A prophecy spoke of the greatest sacrifice ever made, and the loss of one that will lead to the destruction of an entire clan. Are things as dark and terrible as they seem? Or is this terrible, twisted prophecy a way bring new hope and new life to what was lost?





	1. Chapter 1

_“You will have two kits. Both female. And they will be culled unless you get away.”_

Silver jerked awake, trying to escape from the terrible whispered words that echoed again and again in her dreams. She couldn’t ‘get away.’ She couldn’t even hunt for herself. Females stayed in camp all of their lives unless they were escorted by a tom. Those treacherous thoughts would lead to nothing but trouble.

Shivering as the words still echoed between her ears, she crept through the shadows to the dirtplace. If only she could bury those words the way she buried dirt…

Her dark silver fur seemed to have lost its beautiful gloss. No light reflected on her pelt and it felt like she was part of the shadows. She squeezed carefully into the stinky place, and her tail was just inside when she heard the padding of paws beyond the screen of bushes.

“…in two or three days.” Badgerheart, the clan’s Enforcer rumbled in his harsh and grating voice.

Silver’s ears twitched and she locked onto the quiet conversation happening only a tail length from the entrance of the dirt place.

“Very well. We shall inspect all of the kits when she gives birth. We have too many she-cats. If Silver’s kits are female, we will…deal with them.” That was Bane, the clan leader.

“And if Silver objects?” Badgerheart asked coolly.

“Cull her too, of course.”

Silver’s breathing was suddenly too fast. It was one thing to hear words in dreams, where things were not real. It was another to hear her own leader plainly state that it was time for another bloody ritual in the name of Rancor Law. And Badgerheart… Silver swallowed painfully. It squeezed her heart to hear her brother speak so casually about his own kin’s upcoming death.

Later, she would not be able to say what she had been thinking, other than the overwhelming need to escape. She did not think of the dangers that awaited her outside the clan. She did not think of how she would get food. She did not think of what the Clan Rancor toms would do when they found her gone. There were only two words echoing again and again, in the voice of the Ancestor she had never seen, but only heard.

“Get away.”

**“Get away!** ”

 

.

 

Silver huddled in her hiding place, filthy water soaking her up to the middle of her ribs. Her frantic, terrified breathing echoed back and forth around her until it sounded like several cats panted in fear with her. In a way, they did. One of the kits in her belly gave a wriggle, as though sensing her mother’s terror.

“Her scent leads in here,” Badgerheart sounded pleased, and she could imagine the blood lust flaring in his eyes as he said it.

“You think a she-cat would hide in a place like this?” Sneered Blackfog; he was the father of Silver’s kits, but not through any real love of the queen.

“Do you want to be the one to wriggle through the muck to prove Badgerheart wrong? No? Then shut up. I’ll deal with this. It’s my duty as her brother, after all.” That was Quickclaw. The light at the end of the tunnel was briefly blotted out as a large, powerful tom slid into the entrance of the half flooded tunnel. “Don’t follow, and don’t distract me: this stuff makes footing treacherous.”

Silver swallowed and slid back slowly and carefully until she was pressed against one of the walls, with only the dried remains of some sort of plant to screen her. Her heart pounded in her chest.

“I know you’re here, dear sister.” Quickclaw hissed, “You might as well come out. Better to let me kill you now than to be dragged back to be killed before the clan.”

“I won’t go back.” Silver’s voice was quiet. “I’d rather die, alone out here, than among the cats that used to be my clan.”

“You could have lived.” He was coming closer, the scant cover of the plant seeming to cover less and less of her as he did, “So too could your kits, if they were valuable toms.” His eyes were glittering green fire, but held no warmth. “Now you’ve doomed yourself, and them.”

“I had a dream. An Ancestor told me my kits would have been female, and that they would be culled. They had no life. And I couldn’t bear to let the clan end their tiny lives, simply because we had too many females.”

He leaped, smashing through the brittle twigs like a badger tears through stalks of grass. His dark fur seemed to be blacker than a fox’s heart as he pinned her down. “Ancestors don’t talk to females!” he snarled. “Your lies would corrupt the clan and destroy us all! I must put an end to this before you poison us all!” He raised a paw, soiled claws gleaming in the dim light as he prepared to strike her down.

Desperation lent Silver strength, and she kicked out with both hind paws. By some miracle, she caught the powerful tom by surprise and he yowled in shock before pitching backward, and vanishing into the muck.

The dazed queen stared. _There must be a hole on the other side of the room,_ she realized, _hidden beneath the surface of the filthy water._

Coughing, spluttering and thrashing, her brother broke the surface and splashed clumsily back toward his sister, and solid ground.

“They were going to kill my kits, Quickclaw!” Silver poised herself carefully at the edge of the hole by using her paws to check for the brink. “Kits that would be your kin, females or no females. My daughters. I need to live, and so do they.”

A flash of alarm darted through his eyes, “So you would drown me? To keep them safe, you would trap me in this pit until I drown?”

Silver stared at him, emotions chasing one another through her eyes in the span of two heartbeats: sorrow, determination, desperation, and finally… resignation. “No, brother. You may be willing to murder your own kin, but I am not.”

She sprang away and grabbed the end of a branch, dragging it over and swinging it out to him. A strange silvery light seemed to blaze around her, “I extend this branch to you,” her voice sounded strange, strong, and not at all like a properly submissive female. “Take it or do not, but understand what it is I offer beyond the branch itself.”

Quickclaw’s eyes widened, then he seized the branch with both front paws. He could feel himself being hauled through the water to the edge as though he were nothing more than a kit.

His paws came to rest on solid ground and he simply stood and gasped as the filthy water sloshed around his paws and streamed from his fur. He would not look at her. Not even when he heard the branch being dropped and felt the warmth of her body coming close to him. As he breathed, her scent wafted to him. Delicate, female, and achingly familiar.

It was strange. For a flash, a memory sprang in his mind; he was nursing at his mother’s side, and a strange emotion washing through his tiny body. He’d scented his sister, even before his eyes had opened. Her scent made him feel strong, and protective, and whenever his older brother tried to shove his sister aside to nurse first, Quick had shoved back and stood strong while his little sister huddled in his shadow.

“I want a chance to live. I will never return to the clan. I will go away. Far away. But at least our family will have the chance to exist.” Her voice was very soft, almost pleading with him. The strength was gone and she sounded as weak and female as she always did.

The memory bothered him. When had he lost that part of himself?

“When you die, you will not join the Clan Rancor ancestors.” His voice was a dark warning.

She lifted her chin for a heartbeat, “You say that as if I would want to.”

This made him whip around to stare at her in shock. His mouth was open but no words were coming out.

“Quickclaw? What happened?” Badgerheart’s harsh voice echoed to him through the tunnel, almost too distorted to understand.

Silver sucked in a breath and tensed, her eyes wide and her pupils dilated in terror.

Anger roared through his veins at the thought of his sister’s life being extinguished beneath Badgerheart’s terrible claws. Before the plan was completely formed in his brain, he rolled in the sloppy, rank smelling water to wash any trace of his sister’s scent from his fur. “There’s a big pit in here!” he snarled, “I fell right into it! I thought her scent went down one of the tunnels, but now I can’t smell anything!”

Turning toward his sister he stared at her for a heartbeat, as though drinking in the sight of her for the last time. “We may call upon the Red Claws. Make sure you’re gone before then.” He whispered, his gaze turning hard and unyielding.

“Fine,” growled Badgerheart voice, “Then I’ll come in and sniff her out myself.”

“Don’t bother,” Quickclaw snapped, shoving himself into the tunnel so he blocked the way in, “She’s not here, the footing is treacherous, and it looks like the tunnels get tight in here. I’ve had enough of this place. Let someone else hunt that stupid female down. If she doesn’t starve to death on her own, there are plenty of Rogues, foxes, hawks and badgers willing to finish the job…” his voice grew too distorted then for Silver to understand but she knew he was warning her the best way he could.

The queen closed her eyes and sent a rush of love toward her brother’s disappearing tail in the hope that somehow he could feel it. Then she turned down another tunnel and padded through it, in the opposite direction of her pursuers. Quickclaw was right of course. Badgerheart liked all loose ends tied up, nice and neat and bloody.

It was best if she didn’t stay here.

 

.

 

It was a wet Newleaf day, but prey was active and plentiful, the wind was warm and even the light, constant drizzle failed to drop the temperatures more than a few degrees.

Quickclaw, Blackfog and Badgerheart wove carefully through the trees, each carrying a choice bit of prey.

“Where are they?” Blackfog groused around the rabbit in his jaws. “You would think the Red Claws would challenge us for entering their territory by now. We’re practically in the heart of their territory.”

“That’s not the way they work,” Badgerheart growled bluntly, “We take the food into the heart of the territory, set it down, and wait.”

A pair of blue eyes, deep in the shadows afforded by the lush green leaves above the forest floor, watched their passage. With the flick of a paw, the owner sent three leaves fluttering down to the trespassers below.

“So, they don’t patrol their borders, they let total strangers wander around at will, and don’t even attack when they sit right in the middle of their territory?” Quickclaw wasn’t as critical as Blackfog of this strange revelation, but even he felt confusion capering about between his ears. “So, help me understand, Badgerclaw. Could we enter the territory, do whatever we want here, and leave at our leisure without them ever knowing?”

Three leaves fluttered down from the treetops and tapped each cat on the nose one after the other on their way to the forest floor. An annoyed Blackfog snorted the leaf away. Quickclaw blinked, surprised that three random leaves could hit each of them by chance on the softly shifting breezes that wove through the trees. Badgerheart’s eyes narrowed fractionally and he simply turned his head and let the leaf flutter away.

“Don’t be tick brained,” Badgerheart snapped, finally coming to a stop and putting down his plump bird in a shallow dip in the ground. “Don’t you get it? They knew we were here the instant we left our territory. They’ve been stalking us, listening and watching, the entire time.”

“Even across the open field? Come on Badgerheart, we would have seen something. Scented something.” Blackfog snorted.

“Are you sure about that?” Badgerheart narrowed his eyes fractionally and looked at his two clanmates. “Would you bet your life on it?”

Quickclaw dropped his squirrel and spun in a circle, trying to spot something, anything in the underbrush. There was no sound, no scent, not hint that anything lived in this forest but birds and other prey creatures. The only thing he could smell was pine sap and various plants.

“I don’t feel like I’m being hunted.” Blackfog muttered dismissively, dropping his rabbit and rolling his eyes.

“Um,” said Quickclaw. “Where’d my squirrel go?”

“I feel like you’re playing a prank on me like I’m a kit and the Red Claws are really some spooky story told to make me behave.” Blackfog ignored his clan mate’s attempt to interject.

“Blackfog, did you move the rabbit?” Quickclaw’s voice quavered.

“I swear Badgerheart, if you start laughing at me, I will call Challenge right here, right now. Look around! There’s _nobody_ here.”

“Our prey is _gone_!” Quickclaw thrust himself between the two cats in a desperate bid to be heard.

“And that,” Badgerheard meowed, sweetly as honey, “Is why they’re so feared, even by our clan.”

Blackfog blinked stupidly at the dip. “That’s not funny. Which of you did it? I was watching Badgerheart the entire time. Quickclaw? Is this your idea of a joke?”

“Oh yeah, because I’m laughing so hard right now! Fox breath!” Quickclaw put his ears back.

“What did you call me?” Blackfog shoved his face into Quickclaw’s, teeth bared to the gums.

“Honestly,” came a new voice, silky as Newleaf grass tickling a kit’s belly, “If this is how Clan Rancor members act nowadays, perhaps it is falling apart. Perhaps there is blood on the grass, hmm? Do I smell… weakness?”

Blackfog jumped and whipped around, struggling to see anyone, or anything close enough to him to be the owner of that silky voice.

The trees left a dappled pattern on the mulch that made up the forest floor, but that was all that seemed to be nearby. The nearest bush was several fox lengths away.

Then a pair of green eyes opened a tail length from Blackfog’s paws and the forest floor seemed to _move_! The dappled shadows slid and caressed the stranger’s body, which was a ghostly gray in color. His most striking feature were his eyes. No spot, bar or stripe marred his body. As such, whether sun or shadow hit it, his fur took on the exact pattern as the rest of the forest; either lighting up to the same brilliant white of the sun spots, or the dark, colorless gray of the shadows. Long, silky fur was fluffed in the gentle breeze, breaking up his outline like wispy, gently waving fog.

“Hello Ghost.” Badgerheart’s voice was perfectly calm as his other two companions tightened ranks at his shoulders. “Please forgive my clan mates. We’ve had a… bit of a rough morning.”

“So we… smelled.” Ghost turned his emotionless green eyes upon Quickclaw, who still bore evidence of his unpleasant dunking.

Quickclaw grimaced. The drizzling rain seemed to have done nothing but keep the muck fresh and smelly on his fur. Badgerheart hadn’t even let him rinse off in a stream, demanding instead that they hunt prey and immediately go to the Red Claw’s territory.

“So, you approve of our offering?” Badgerheart asked rhetorically. It was obvious that it had been accepted, since the prey was gone and one of the Red Claws was talking to him.

Ghost merely flicked his tail. “So… what favor do you seek from us?”

“A member of our clan has defied our laws and fled. She needs to be hunted down, and punishment meted out.” Blackfog spat.

Ghost blinked lazily, as though the vehement declaration bored him thoroughly. “And in return?”

“Clan Rancor has agreed to allow the Red Claws use of our stream and the prey in it for a full moon.” Badgerheart replied calmly.

“Out of curiosity,” Ghost asked blandly, “How exactly could your clan stop us from doing that anyway, if that was what we really wanted?”

There was silence for a long moment. Badgerheart merely continued to stare at the Red Claw. “It is what I am offering, without the trouble that would come with coming in uninvited.”

Finally, Ghost shrugged, “Well, I certainly don’t know what ‘trouble’ you could be referring to. None of your clan members are capable of being ‘trouble’ to any of us. As I recall, we taught you cats a proper lesson the last time you mouthy, hot headed, fur balls thought to pick a fight. How is the little ringleader of that escapade by the way? He seemed to be in a rather bad way last we saw of him.”

“Crippled, useless to the clan, and culled immediately, as you well know! And three more were wounded so badly they were unable to hunt for moons! And then! And then you somehow lured our most skilled fighter into the grass and flat out killed him! I don’t even know how you pulled that off! But somehow you did! But you know all this!” Blackfog stepped forward aggressively and glowered into Ghost’s bored face.

Quickclaw snatched at his clan mate’s tail in a desperate effort to stop him from doing something stupid.

“You know it! Why would you **ask** that unless you wanted to…” Blackfog trailed off, realizing that the Red Claw had brought up that painful defeat simply because it was a humiliation, and because he wanted to rub their noses in the fact that they couldn’t take out a few measly Rogues. Blackfog finished with a wordless snarl of fury.

“Is that so?” Ghost meowed. He showed no fear of Blackfog’s seething anger, nor did he look pleased, or even triumphant at having antagonized the tom. He sounded like a lazy she-cat after hearing a fascinating, new bit of gossip and nothing more. “My, my. Well with luck, such ‘misunderstandings’ can be avoided in the future then hmm?” He rose unhurriedly, gave a short leap to the base of a tree and glided up the trunk.

Quickclaw released Backfog’s tail. “Don’t ever do that again! Don’t you remember? There are four of them! There’s only three of us!”

“There was only one of him, and I-“ Blackfog’s jeer was cut short by Badgerheart’s cuff to the back of the head.

“And you would have been killed the second you actually tried to lay your paws on him,” the Enforcer snarled. “Three of them are known to me, and only because I have been trying to salvage the relationship between us and them ever since that pack of stupid hunters got it into their heads to prove our clan’s strength. No cat in living memory has ever seen the fourth!”

“Do… do you know their names?” Quickclaw asked.

“You’ve met Ghost. His full name is Ghost Of a Chance. Very appropriate, and you’ve already seen what he can do. Otter In Darkness is a dark brown all over. Pale green eyes. Likes to explode out of holes or out of the river and drag his victims where they can’t be easily rescued. Gives him plenty of time to do whatever he wants with them.”

Quickclaw swallowed. There was only one thing to do with a victim trapped in water or beneath the ground.

“Then there’s Mist Over Stone Teeth. I hear he earned that name by pitching one of our own clan over the waterfall and onto the deadly stone teeth at the base. He strikes and then flees before he can be caught. His victims rarely rise from the blow he deals.” Badgerheart licked a paw and ran it over one ear.

“And the fourth?” Quickclaw asked.

“No one has seen or met this cat. No one knows what they look like or what they do. I’ve only heard the name once: Lightning That Strikes at Night.”

“So, four toms living all the way out here, a deadly fighting force that defeated a patrol of clan warriors? Impressive.” Blackfog mused.

Quickclaw’s fur prickled. Blackfog had immediately assumed that the fourth was a tom. But _he_ hadn’t missed the strange way Badgerheart had failed to just state the gender of the fourth. Could it be? Could one of the Red Claws be a she-cat? Raised and trained to fight?

The thought sent emotions roiling through the tom’s skull. Everything he had been raised on said that females were weak, useless in battle or hunting, and only good for raising kits. But… no one ever claimed that there were only three Red Claws. Everyone knew there were four, despite never seeing the mysterious fourth member. And… a she cat? It would explain why she was never seen. Clan Rancor would do more than send a patrol to strike against the quartet. All four of them would be hunted by every tom in Clan Rancor, and the fighting female declared an abomination. She would be killed, and the other three with her for allowing her to fight.

But if females could fight, could hunt, could be just as good as any tom… if elsewhere, beyond the clan, she-cats lived lives free of dominating toms, free to be fierce and strong…

The thought send a shiver through him that was half fear for daring to think of such things, half thrill at the thought of a she-cat as wild and strong and fierce as an equal, a partner… his sister could be one of them.

Ghost swarmed down the tree trunk, interrupting Quickclaw’s thoughts, his eyes amused. “Done telling stories to the little kits?” He purred. “We have decided. Mist has agreed to pursue the she-cat.”

Quickclaw stirred briefly but did not open his mouth. Ghost’s cool gaze flicked to him and then away. “Mist! Come down, brother, and greet our guests!”

A mottled gray tom dropped out of the cover of the leaves above, and down to the ground next to Blackfog, who jumped and spat. His silver eyes gleamed with dark humor at Blackfog.

“Lead me to her scent trail, please.” Mist had a voice that was low and soothing, on the verge of a purr that would send all the females of Clan Rancor flocking to him. It was the kind of voice that would let him get right up close and personal with his target. The kind of voice that gave no hint to the deadly killer within. In a way, his pleasant, purring voice and Ghost’s silky voice were two of a kind.

Blackfog scooted a bit farther away, his eyes never leaving the closed expression and darkly humorous silver eyes. He too seemed uncomfortable around Mist.

Badgerheart simply nodded and turned around. The two warriors followed, fur prickling as Mist walked behind them. His paws made no sound on the loam and his gaze wandered around the forest as though curious about everything but the cats he was with.

Quickclaw swallowed, his throat seemingly very dry all of a sudden. What he was about to do was dangerous in so very many ways. He slowed his steps, dropping back to walk by Mist’s left shoulder. He struggled with what he wanted to say.

Finally Mist spoke up. “You want to talk to me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Um, well… er… I take it you know Clan Rancor’s laws?”

Mist’s chuckle was dark, and harsh. “I do indeed.”

“Well, um. You... You four live outside them, right?” Quickclaw’s fur felt like it was going to twitch right off, and his gut clenched.

He figured that the Red Claws were called that because of the blood they spilled and the lives they ended. It had to be dangerous to ask them for favors. And what he was going to ask would be an immediate death sentence if Badgerheart or Blackfog overheard him.

“We aren’t bound by your laws.” Mist agreed, his silver eyes inscrutable.

“Okay… well… could you… I dunno… That is… She’s my sister.” He whispered it all in a rush. “She broke Rancor Law, but she’s left the clan. Could you… um… judge her according to laws outside of the clan? I’ll… I’ll do what I can to make it worthwhile to you.”

Those alien silver eyes blinked slowly, thoughtfully. Quickclaw could have sworn that they looked… gleeful for half a heartbeat. But then it was gone. “Be very, very careful about asking favors from a Red Claw. We will collect, whether or not it seems to be a reasonable price.”

“I... I want her to live happily. I want her to be safe.” The words popped out of his mouth before he even realized that he did indeed want Silver to live. What shocked him even more was the pleading note in his voice.

“Fascinating.” Mist sounded bored. “Oh look, here we are.” He sped up to join the other two toms at the entrance to the tunnel, leaving the Rancor tom behind.

Quickclaw slowed, his heart sinking. Had he just failed? Had he risked everything, uttered the words of treachery, for nothing? These were the Red Claws. They probably took pleasure in killing. And what if they demanded something terrible in return for sparing his sister’s life? He turned his back on the group and let an expression of grief and fear spill over his face.

His sister… and her kits… they would not survive without her. If Mist killed her as the Clan decreed, there would be multiple deaths; not just one. And, he realized, he didn’t want her daughters to die either, even if they were only she-cats. In silent horror, he realized that one whispered word from the Rancor Ancestors about his treacherous thoughts would end his life too.


	2. Chapter 2

Mist stared into the hole in the ground. It was familiar to him; Clan Rancor didn’t know it, but the Red Claws had hidden here long before they had moved to the forest just an hour’s trot away. He knew every twist, turn and exit this place had. The deep pool was where Otter had discovered his talent for swimming. The female, Silver, had chosen well to hide here; it would half-flood in the rain, creating a stagnant, foul smelling muck that would wipe out every trace of her scent from all but the most cunning trackers.

He slipped into the dim light of the tunnel without a backward glance and followed it to the cave in the center. The muck had been churned here; even beneath the filthy water, he could trace signs of a tussle with his paws. She had been pounced upon and then… Well well! So she had managed to toss her attacker into the pool had she? Good. If she was completely useless in a fight, this would be a ridiculously short hunt.

His whiskers gave a slow wiggle in pleasure. And there, close to the water’s edge, was a faint trace where the queen’s fur had brushed the walls when she had initially tried to hide. And here again, a faint scent, almost washed away, on a stick. He had been afraid that this would be an incredibly boring start, but through luck or instinct, the queen had given him the first small challenge.

“I’ve got her scent,” he said coolly as he slid out of the tunnel to face the three Rancor toms, “I will check the exits, and track her down from there.”

Quickclaw flinched again, but when he turned around, his expression was as closed as any warrior of the Clan Rancor.

“Here is where my hunt begins, and here is where you return to your clan. When I am done, we will come to claim our reward, and not a moment before. Make sure your clan keeps the agreements it has made with us.” Those stony silver eyes settled on each Rancor cat individually, resting just a heartbeat longer on Quickclaw with no give or warmth in them. “We are not forgiving cats.”

Something dark and terrible shifted behind those eyes; something that made the air leak out of Quickclaw’s lungs. And for what felt like an eternity, he couldn’t inhale. He couldn’t even put words to the things that those eyes promised, and fear lanced through his heart.

Badgerheart looked unaffected. Either he hadn’t caught the look, or he still felt some scrap of superiority over the deadly cat that spoke so sweetly about agreements and rewards. The Enforcer nodded solemnly, calling Blackfog and Quickclaw to him with a wave of his tail. Quickclaw swallowed hard and obeyed his brother, relief making his legs feel watery.

Acting as though he had nothing else on his mind, Mist trotted off to the next nearest exit and sniffed. No scent. He nodded slightly. This one was in the direction of the clan she was trying to escape. He trotted to the next. No scent. It was the third exit, the one leading away from the Clan, which had the she-cat’s fresh scent.

“They’re gone,” came a quiet voice behind him.

“I suspected as much. I don’t think they even knew you were there.” Mist turned to purr to his sister.

Lightning That Strikes at Night was a spotted tabby with silver fur and bright, sapphire blue eyes. The other two appeared at her shoulder, seeming to simply rise up from the grass.

“You won’t believe what I spotted!” Lightning mewed eagerly. “Clan Rancor has a traitor!”

“Quickclaw asked me not to kill his sister.” Mist shrugged. “He even tried to bargain with me.”

“Yes, but he turned his back on you when you walked away. He’s _afraid_ for his sister’s safety. I saw his expression. We can use that. We can use _him_!” Lightning bounced in place like an excited kit.

“Slow down,” Ghost murmured, though the look in his eyes betrayed his eagerness. “We must step as delicately as if we were stalking a mouse. But you are right, sister. This is the claw hold we’ve been looking for.”

Mist closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “So… it has begun…”

Lightning’s eyes flashed, “Yes. It has. I’m going with Mist.”

Ghost and Otter shifted worriedly, but said nothing. Purring gently, she touched her nose to each of their cheeks. “I’ll be okay. We’re going beyond Clan Rancor! They can’t hurt me while I’m with Mist.”

“Be careful. We don’t know if any other clans are any better.” Otter warned them.

“We’re counting on you both.” Ghost meowed. “We’ll wait. One moon. Then, we’ll all come.”

“We’ll uphold our end. Will you two be all right?” Sapphire eyes swept over her two brothers worriedly.

“Pfffeehh.” Otter hissed, “Don’t worry about us. Those mangy Rancor toms won’t know what’s happening until it’s way too late.”

“Then let us begin.” Ghost narrowed his eyes.

Facing one another, all four raised their right front paws and pressed them together. As one, they murmured the prophecy, the promise, that the Red Claws had been taught at a mere six moons old.

 

"Clan Rancor shall fall!

Clan Rancor shall fall!

The loss of one shall

Be the defeat of all.

On wind and deadly leap

Through tunnels dark and deep

Our stealth in the night

And mist in light

They will taste defeat’s dark blight!

Clan Rancor shall fall!

Clan Rancor shall fall!"

 

The four cats flexed their strong, sharp claws, interlocking them briefly in a nest of deadly points. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and illuminated the quartet. And in the strong afternoon sun, their claws glowed a dark cherry red.

 

.

 

The wet, drizzling day hadn’t cleared up any, and Silver shook her head yet again to scatter drops from the ends of her whiskers. It was impossible to smell anything but wet plants and muddy earth, not that she knew how to check for scents anyway. If she was being pursued by the Red Claws yet, there was no sign.

Hunger wracked her belly and she knew she needed to eat. And soon. Her last meal had been a single, small fish she had managed to trap in the shallows of the stream.

Finally, with a weary sigh, she slid beneath the towering branches of a tree, shook the water out of her fur and tried to dry it out some. This at least, was one skill she knew. The same couldn’t be said for feeding herself.

Movement alerted her and she jerked her head up, staring out over the long grass with wide eyes, hoping to identify it. The rain was a fine constant drizzle, with sunshine breaking through at random points, which turned everything hazy with silvery fog. A light breeze made the long grass ripple constantly like the surface of water. She was just about to dismiss it when she saw movement again.

There was a strange cat out there; a silvery she-cat stalking slowly through the open field.

Fascinated, the queen drank in how the stranger seemed to flow like water through the grass. Her mouth opened wide, making the queen tip her head in puzzlement. No screech or cry escaped the silently open mouth. Her body was held low, legs bent to lift her just to the height of the grass, staring intently at something hidden from Silver’s line of sight. Then she began to move again; each paw was carefully and lightly placed. Then the stranger froze suddenly, tail twitching and jerking so that her fur buckled and waved just like the grass she was moving through.

She waited an eternal moment then… Silver’s mouth dropped open as the strange she-cat gave a leap meant for distance rather than height, and came down on something that uttered a shrill squeak before silence fell. The strange she-cat came up with some sort of rodent in her jaws, shook the rain out of her fur, and padded away from Silver to vanish among the waving blades of grass.

Silver let out a breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. The stranger either hadn’t seen her sitting beneath the tree, or else simply hadn’t cared. But now her mind was on fire, going over and over and over how the stranger had carried herself, how she had moved, and how she had leaped upon her prey. She-cats did indeed hunt outside of Clan Rancor! And they fought too, if those muscles flowing beneath her pelt had been anything to go on.

Carefully, Silver slid into the grass, her eyes watching for any stalks of grass that wiggled differently in the breeze.

She slowly lowered herself into a similar position and crept along, pausing once in a while to open her mouth the way the she cat had. She took a breath and then…

The scent of something warm and musky hit the roof of her mouth and made her belly cramp with hunger so much that she had to bite back a gasp. Slowly, carefully she followed the scent to its end.

Her first hunt was a failure, but the scent of the mouse and her desperate need for food set her on several more hunts. None of them were successful; she was making a lot of mistakes, and having lived in the nursery all her life left her with few skills. Her legs ached constantly with all this travel and her clumsy bumps, slips and misses left her ego as battered as her body. She eventually gave up and was on the move again not long afterward.

She drank deeply from the stream she had been following for hours now. It was, if nothing else, a source of water that she definitely needed, even if hunting was bad.

A twig cracked behind her.

Silver gasped and jumped. Unfortunately, the movement carried her forward and she toppled straight into the stream. She floundered for several precious seconds, expecting to feel claws slicing through her pelt. But they didn’t, and she sat up. Water streamed from her sides and gathered in large drops all along her whiskers.

A silver spotted tabby stood on the bank, frozen in mid step, and blinked down at her with deep blue eyes. A fat bird was gripped in her jaws. The two stared at one another for several heartbeats before the silver tabby put her prey down and spoke.

“Well?” Her whiskers were wiggling in amusement, “Do you like sitting in streams?”

“Uh,” Silver replied intelligently. _It’s her! The she-cat I saw hunting earlier!_

Up close, the she-cat terrified the queen. Muscles flexed beneath her silvery pelt, speaking of a she-cat with a long history of hunting and fighting behind her. And yet, she didn’t have a single scar to mark her the way Rancor toms were marked. This meant she was very, very good at winning with the first blow. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, but they were cool and confident. Even the strange she-cat’s body language spoke of deadly confidence. She didn’t duck her head, mew submissively, or shrink down to show that she was cowed by…well…anything. She would have been beaten viciously, if not killed in a heartbeat by the first Rancor tom that set his eyes on her. It was as if this rogue didn’t fear any cat, tom or otherwise.

And that in itself was both terrifying and thrilling to Silver.

All of this was absorbed in an instant, but it took another heartbeat before her brain worked enough for her to climb out of the water and shake herself off. Water sprayed in all directions and her paws, still wet and slippery, skidded out from under her. Her hind end landed on the ground with a thump.

“You’re not very graceful are you?” The she-cat asked. “How do you even hunt like that?”

“I... I don’t really know how to hunt. My name is Silver, by the way.”

“Call me Lightning. You really don’t know how to hunt? Really?” There was a strange… _knowing_ … in Lightning’s eyes that betrayed her bewildered tone.

“She-cats aren’t allowed to hunt. Or fight. We stay in the camp almost all of our lives, other than to take walks under the guard of toms. If we cannot have kits, we are culled. If there are too many female kits, some are culled. And if we dare leave, we are hunted down and culled.” Silver’s face twisted into a bitter expression.

“That word. ‘Culled.’ It sounds like…”

“Yes. It means we are killed. Killed for the good of the clan. Killed to keep the clan strong.” Silver spat the words out like crowfood.

There was a silence, broken only by the sound of the drizzling rain on the surface of the water..

“Don’t you know this already? You being a she-cat and all…” The queen trailed off as Lightning laughed.

“I would shred the ears of every tom who dared to try that with me! What rubbish.” The word was spoken with such disdain that Silver was struck speechless. “Rubbish, crowfood and dirt. A tom telling me that I wasn’t allowed to hunt? I would bury his tomhood where I usually make dirt.” She spoke of such a graphic thought with relish, as though she looked forward to some fool trying to make the attempt. So saying, she stretched, and those powerful muscles slid beneath her glossy fur. “Listen to me very carefully. The world is much, much bigger than your clan. If you don’t plan to go back to your Clan Rancor, you need to learn how to take care of yourself.”

Silver’s stomach gave a long, loud growl as the scent of the bird at Lightning’s paws wafted past her nose.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Lightning meowed in amusement, “I’ll share my meal with you, and teach you how to hunt. But you must pay very close attention, and you must be willing to learn fast. No complaining, no excuses. I’ll help you… if only to give you a sporting chance, considering your handicap.”

Silver swallowed thickly as those fierce blue eyes flicked to her swollen belly.

“I saw your attempts at hunting.” Lightning meowed. “I assume you saw me hunting and wanted to try for yourself.” She said it as though it was a statement, not a question, but Silver nodded anyway.

“A good start for a beginner. But you need to work on your balance. Grass is only slippery if you put your paws wrong or forget to balance your weight, even on less than four paws…” Lightning led the queen into the grass and demonstrated how to move through the blades, worming her paws between the thick blades down to the damp earth below, where she could grip.

The day was the longest, hardest day Silver had ever lived. By the time she brought down a rabbit that evening, her legs trembled with exhaustion and her head buzzed like a wasp’s nest with all the things she had learned. And yet, all the mistakes she had made this morning, Lightning had corrected.

“You have a lot to learn,” Lightning meowed, “But I think you can feed yourself now that we’ve awakened some of your hunting instincts.”

The strange she-cat was utterly fascinating, simply by existing. She spoke of things no she-cat ever would have thought of; hunting, fighting off a badger with her brothers, tussling with them as she learned how to fight off her enemies. She seemed particularly fond of several terrible fights that had resulted in death.

That night, Silver slept badly. Those stories had turned her fascination into a sharp spike of fear. Frightened thoughts fluttered in Silver’s head like trapped moths. But wouldn’t come to the surface.

When Silver woke up the next morning from her fitful sleep, Lightning was gone. As she stared at the spot where Lightning had laid down, the thoughts finally surfaced.

_How did she know I was from Clan Rancor? I never told Lightning the name of my clan! Sky above me, is she a Red Claw!?_

 

.

 

Mist flicked his tail as his sister slid through the grass back to his side. “Giving her a sporting chance?”

“But of course! There’s no point otherwise.” Lightning paused and the pair watched as the queen straightened with alarm and immediately fled the spot where she had slept. “She has the instincts. And she worked very hard.” Lightning murmured, peering over the long grass that concealed herself and her brother, “She will remember what she was taught when hunger drives her. Don’t worry, we will keep an eye on her. If she starts floundering, we’ll end our little hunt.”

Mist’s eyes all but glowed as he looked at the queen who gamely padded onward. “You’re right of course. The thing she absolutely must learn right now is how to live alone. She must think for herself. She must put her brain to use. And she must learn her own limits. Without that, our hunt will be nothing but a disappointment, and it will set our plans further back than we can afford.”

The two cats fell silent as they followed the queen. For two days, she fled along the course of the water, which had sunk beneath the earth. A gorge took its place, its steep sides blocking the queen from access to anything to drink for over half a day.

She was growing ever so slightly slower with each sunrise. Desperation had dragged her far, but she was still very pregnant, and weighed down by her kits. It was still early morning of the third day when it became obvious that Silver could not go any farther.

She was padding along at a steady pace, having devoured three mice for breakfast, when she suddenly jerked and a yowl of shock and pain burst from her jaws.

“Did a snake bite her?!” Mist gasped, starting to race forward.

Lightning darted in front of him and shook her head, her tail flicking over his mouth to keep him from calling out to the queen.

Silver panted, her eyes wide and confused; then another ripple rolled through her pelt, dragging a gasp from between her clenched teeth.

“There was no snake.” Lightning meowed in an undertone. “It is time for her greatest battle yet. We will keep close, but she will not thank us for looming over her while she is helpless.”

There was another pained yowl, and then Silver broke into a staggering run, aiming for a clump of trees father along the gorge.

Mist and Lightning skidded to a stop on shock and horror at a line that the queen had bounded across without stopping. A scent line! Silver was racing into the heart of another clan’s territory!

 

.

 

The pain in her belly hit her in waves. By the time she staggered under the shade of the trees, they were unbearable. She half scrambled, half fell into a shallow scoop of earth beneath the protective branches of some sort of bush.

A screech of pain sent birds into flight above her, and a strange voice called, “What in the name of Starclan was that?!”

“It came from over here!” a tom’s voice.

“Oh my… Whitebirch! Get Maplefur!” A sleek, gray she-cat appeared at the entrance to Silver’s makeshift nursery. “Hey, hey, shhh. It’s okay.”

“Hurts…” Silver panted, her eyes slitted against the pain and the contractions.

“I know. I know it hurts.” The she-cat mewed soothingly, easing into the shade with the frantic queen, “I had kits before too. No, no. It’s too early to push. Just keep breathing. Deep breaths now; not those quick, shallow ones. That’s right.”

Under the guidance of the experienced she-cat, Silver began to calm down.

“What’s this I hear about a rogue queen having kits?” scrabbling paws skidded on the ground as a tom ducked low and peeped into the shadows.

Silver sucked in a deep, horrified breath, “No!” She wailed, “No toms! Don’t let him near me! He’ll... he’ll cull my…” another howl cut her off in mid sentence.

“This is Maplefur.” The strange she-cat meowed, licking Silver gently between her ears, “He’s our medicine cat, and he helps all of our queens handle giving birth. He would never harm you or your kits.”

“I promise I only want to help,” Maplefur purred soothingly, but he was forced to scramble backward as the delirious she-cat snapped at his encroaching face, lips drawn back from her teeth in a desperate snarl.

“Toms…” Silver moaned, “Don’t let them find me…”

The two cats shared a dumbfounded expression before Maplefur murmured, “Well all right, I’ll leave it to you then, Rainstar. I’ll… I’ll be out here if you need anything at all.”

“Her nose is dry as dirt in Greenleaf drought. I bet she would appreciate a good drink.” Rainstar offered diplomatically.

“Right…” The sound of the medicine cat’s paws faded away in time to his rather dejected agreement.

“You’ve still got a ways to go. Keep breathing, and don’t try to force this. They will come when the time is right.” Rainstar stroked Silver’s side with a gentle paw.

The queen merely whimpered. It seemed like an eternity passed for the two before…

“Rainstar? A whole bunch of us got moss and soaked it in water. It’s in the dock leaf here.” The leaf was very carefully nudged into the shade by Whitebirch, who did his best not to come into the queen’s line of sight.

“Bless you all the way to Starclan at a ripe old age,” Rainstar murmured, and gently squeezed water into Silver’s mouth. The queen swallowed thirstily and gratefully as she continued, “The first kit is about to come, and there’s not much else I can do.”

At Rainstar’s urging, Silver bean to push, and soon the first kit slipped out into the soft much.

“It’s a she-kit!” Rainstar meowed, as much for Silver’s sake as the clan members who were doubtless lurking outside with fascination. “A beautiful silver tabby. She’ll gleam in the sunlight.”

Rainstar promptly scooped up the kit and began to lick vigorously, drying her as quickly as possible before plopping her at her mother’s side. With an eager, and strong squeak, the kit began to nurse.

“Here comes the next one!” Unbeknownst to Silver, practically the entire clan was ranged outside, craning forward for the slightest scrap of information from Rainstar. “Another she-kit!” Cheers from the clan nearly drowned out the description of, “dark silver, marbled tabby!”

Silver sank into an exhausted half-doze, curling protectively around the two tiny kits, murmuring over and over to them; “You’re safe. I’ll never let the toms get you. Never. Never.”

Rainstar’s pelt bristled. Just what had happened to this poor queen to make her so terrified of toms? She finally just shook her head. There was no way of knowing how terrible rogue toms were. But this brought up a problem; they had to somehow get this strange queen into the safety of the nursery without the warriors losing their ears.

With so few she-cats in the clan, it made moving all three impossible. How could…

“Rainstar? Would you give these to our guest please? It will make things better for every cat.” Maplefur was suddenly at the entrance of the makeshift nursery, pushing a packet inside.

Borage… and a few poppy seeds.

“You read my mind,” Rainstar purred.


	3. Chapter 3

Ghost slid from one patch of shadows to the next. He couldn’t be spotted, not with his fur the way it was; and he knew how to move without sound. That left scent. And of course, that was why his fur was sticky with the resin of the pine trees that made up most of Clan Rancor and Red Claw territory. The sharp piney scent was the Red Claws’ favorite mask for scent, which made it next to impossible for Rancor toms to catch them.

And today, he had a specific mission in mind.

He found his target, laying pensively in the sun, staring off into the distance without really seeing it. A melancholy expression made his whiskers droop.

There was no need to guess why he was alone, or why he looked resigned. He was expecting to hear from the Red Claws.

“Your thoughts betray you, Quickclaw.”

The tom flinched, but to his credit, did not cry out. “I wondered when you would show up. I suppose Mist told you.”

“He did.” Ghost made himself comfortable on the far side of the rock. “He found your request intriguing. He agreed to spare her life, but we want to make an agreement with you. And extra special… agreement.”

Quickclaw swallowed. Ghost’s voice was still smooth, but it had become hard on the last sentence. Whatever the Red Claws were going to demand, they would not accept a refusal.

“What do you want?” he all but whispered.

“Your queens; the ones who are slated for culling. There are three that are nearly ready, aren’t there? In half a moon, there will be more.” Quickclaw quivered. Ghost made it a question, but it was obvious he knew _exactly_ what was going on in Clan Rancor at any given time. Ghost continued, “Their last kits will soon be old enough to no longer need them. You will bring them, one by one, to the Resting Place at dusk, just like your clan always does. From there, you will _not_ cull them. You will give them to us.”

“I don’t understand.” Quickclaw meowed, “A bunch of old females in exchange for my sister’s life? What good will they be to you?”

“That is for us to decide.” Ghost meowed coldly. _And they are not as old as you think, foolish Rancor tom,_ he thought. Out loud he growled, “The first is supposed to be culled tomorrow evening. Make sure that it is your duty to do so.”

Quickclaw murmured in agreement, and a heartbeat later he knew the Red Claw was gone. What could he do but obey? He was already a traitor to Rancor Law, and the Red Claws could get to him at any time if he dared refuse them. No matter where he turned, death was the only thing that awaited him.

On the appointed evening, the Rancor tom led the first she-cat to the Resting Place. The smell hit them both suddenly as the wind changed, and Evening gasped and choked at the stench.

It was a pit, lined with the bones and rotting carcasses of cats slain by Bane’s command. Here, she-cats were brutally killed and simply kicked over the edge. Toms died in battle, and their bodies too were left here. If you were no longer any use to the clan, you were food for the carrion eaters. There was no honorable burial here and there were no sorrowful goodbyes to a beloved clan mate. It was the Resting Place, for according to Rancor Rules; “Rest when you are dead, as the dead have no other use.”

Flies buzzed and swarmed so heavily here that their droning overwhelmed the sounds of prey beyond the pit. At a particularly loud cough from Evening, several crows took flight, cawing loudly. Something immense and black rose, unhurried, from the bottom and flapped its way skyward. A naked, red-skinned head was exposed to the air, and massive black wings caught the winds and soared, circling. Eyes as blank as a carcass observed the two cats from above. There was nothing but the smell of death here, and every slow flap of those great wings only stirred the smell around.

“Hurry it up then,” Evening finally panted, “At least when I’m dead I will not have to smell this place.”

“Enough. She-cats do not give orders to toms.” Quickclaw growled.

“And what will you do if I don’t shut up? Kill me?” Evening began to laugh, a bitter, angry sound. “I am already dead. There’s nothing more you can do to me. Shall I simply leap off the edge and save you the trouble?”

“I do not believe that will be necessary.” Ghost melted out of the shadows. “You have done your part Quickclaw. Now it is my turn.”

Evening watched the Rancor tom turn away and pad off into the shadows before turning her green eyes to the Red Claw. “Oh ho! And here we thought that Rancor toms did the dirty work! Instead we’re left to the ‘mercy’ of someone else.” She took a breath and made a face. “Oh whatever, just hurry up with it already.”

The massive shadow passed over them, and Evening flinched.

Still Ghost did not strike her down. Instead, he simply gazed at her with an expression so alien that Evening was having trouble deciphering it.

Finally, he meowed, “Come with me please. This is no place to have a proper conversation.”

“But… that bird… and I’m to… aren’t… aren’t you here to cull me?” Evening reluctantly followed the strange tom, encouraged more by the fear of the massive black bird than the need to obey.

“He’s only a vulture. Their kind are known for two things; patience, and eating carrion. As such, they don’t attack strong, living creatures.” Ghost led the bemused she-cat to a tall conifer. With his strong claws, he scraped at the bark. Something sticky and yellow immediately began to ooze.

“Rub yourself against this spot, so that the resin gets caught in your fur. It will help mask your scent.” Again, there was that strange look in his eyes.

“Look, just answer me! Are you going to cull me or not? I’m not interested in playing games!” Evening planted her paws and glared into his eyes.

Ghost did not flinch, and his expression did not change. A fraction of a heartbeat later, Evening couldn’t hold his gaze. She dropped her eyes, her anger and defiance crumbling to dust and an uncomfortable feeling swirling around inside her.

“No.” His voice was soft, and that strange emotion in his voice made her uneasy. She couldn’t stand up to it. All the horrible treatment at the paws of the Rancor toms didn’t knock her off balance the way this strange tom did. “No, I’m not going to cull you.”

His expression was… _gentle_. That was the word she had been trying to find. _Tender._ No Rancor tom ever looked that way at a she-cat. It made a battered, hardened part of her heart soften and flutter like a trapped moth. She felt vulnerable in a way that had never occurred to her before.

“Then… why are you taking me away?” She was startled to hear her voice turn soft, almost pleading for understanding.

“Want to know a secret?” Ghost didn’t answer her directly.

“I... guess?”

“Hold up your paw, and flex your claws.”

Evening blinked in confusion. She had never bared her claws in her life. Only toms did that. She obeyed slowly, still staring at Ghost.

A dark brown tom suddenly appeared from the bushes, his eyes glittering, “By the sun, and the moon. By the great ancestors above, and the blood that flows in your veins. You stand beneath the open sky and reveal your true self to all who would stand beside you. Evening, on this night, the dying sun gleams upon your claws. Tomorrow it will rise, and with it shall begin the birth of a new life for you.”

He stood before her and pressed his paw pads to hers. “I, Otter in Darkness stand as witness to this day. Evening, from this day forward, you will be known as Evening Of The Raging Wind. Welcome sister, to Clan Red Claw.”

The last beam of sunlight struck her paw; and her claws glowed a dark, cherry red.

 

.

 

“She will have had her kits by now.” Lightning murmured as the sun slowly lifted above the horizon the next day. “And we know the clan has them. We can’t get her out without knowing the lay of the land.” The two met one another’s eyes, before Lightning purred softly. “Be very careful brother. If I have to fish you out of there, I will never let you live it down.”

Gently, he nuzzled his sister’s cheek, “You take care of _your_ self. Don’t let these cats get a hold of you. If you get dumped in the nursery, I’ll never let _you_ live it down.”

She gave him a wiggle of her whiskers, and then turned serious, “Are you going in as yourself? Or are you going to play the Red Clawed killer?”

“A mixture, I think. I don’t know that these cats are as bad as Clan Rancor, but I don’t trust them to be good either.” He curled his tail around his legs. “I need you to learn the lay of the land as well. We may need you if it goes sour.”

“Then I will do what I do best brother,” she murmured. “I will join you in a quarter of a moon, if things go well.”

A heartbeat later and she vanished from sight.

Mist nodded to himself. His sister could read the wind like no other cat; she’d had to, in order to avoid being scented by Rancor Warriors. It was also how she tapped cats with the leaves. If she did what she did best, she could hide herself in clan territory without ever being found. And her skill at climbing trees was unparalleled.

Now…

Trotting to the scent line with his body held low, he scouted back and forth before choosing a spot where the shade of the trees crossed the scent line. No point in being uncomfortable while waiting. He would settle, and he would wait. Sooner or later, he would come into contact with this clan. And then… and then he would see just what this clan was made of. His lip curled briefly. And depending on how they behaved, he just might spill some blood too.

He didn’t wait long. A patrol of toms trotted into sight, stopped to stare, then hurried over to meet him.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Spat a belligerent young tom.

“Eaglepaw.” It was one word, but there was a lash of reprimand in that word. The young tom subsided.

The cat that looked steadily at Mist was much older; a sand brown tom with white paws and muzzle, “Stranger, this territory belongs to Skyclan. What brings you here?”

“My name is Mist Over Stone Teeth. I am searching for a dark silver queen with blue eyes. She would have just had kits. I’ve been sent to… find her.”

Every cat in the patrol narrowed his eyes at Mist, much to his amusement. Even if he hadn’t known that she was here, they had just given themselves away.

“Highleap?” Murmured one of the toms.

The senior cat that had been looking steadily at Mist flicked his tail, “This is not for me to decide. You may come with us, but you will be guarded the entire time. Behave yourself, and you won’t lose any fur.”

More amusement shot through the Red Claw. These cats seemed to feel safety in numbers; something that Clan Rancor cats had learned long ago was a lie. He could take all three of them, and even kill one or two to boot; he had been fighting a vicious battle for survival since he had been a kit, almost too young to hunt for himself. He knew all the dirty tricks and all the rotten moves that would ensure a win... at any cost. And, as his namesake warned, the edge of the gorge would serve for pitching an enemy off if he proved troublesome. But since they were doing what he wanted, spilling blood wasn’t necessary… this time.

He had to admit, though, that the clan had chosen well for a place to live. Dens were set in the stone of the gorge. It would be easy to defend them, and enemies had to cross the stream to get to them in the first place.

As lithe, muscular forms slid out of the shadows, there were no females to be seen. Toms the lot of them, and his lip curled just a bit. Another Clan Rancor. Disgusting!

He needed to get Silver out of here as soon as possible.

“Highleap, who have you brought to the Skyclan camp?”

Mist’s head whipped around. That voice! It was a…

A she-cat slid out of a den, joined by a tom who walked a step behind her, letting her take the lead.

“Rainstar.” Highleap bowed his head in deep respect to the she-cat, leaving Mist speechless. “This is Mist Over Stone Teeth. He says he’s looking for a dark silver queen.”

To her credit, the female clan leader didn’t bat an eye. “And why are you seeking this queen?”

Mist hastily gathered his wits. “I have been sent to find her, and her kits.”

“ _That_ much is obvious.” She meowed wryly. Her dark green eyes appraised him thoughtfully. “Yet you do not answer my question.”

Mist blinked blandly back at her. “That is for me to know.”

“I see.” She turned to the tom at her side. “Have the apprentices prepare a nest for our guest. He may stay, but he is to be under guard, and is to go nowhere alone. Until we know his true intentions, we cannot afford to trust him.”

This was somewhat unexpected. He had expected to be driven off. Clan Rancor certainly would have. And the tom at her shoulder, someone called him Whitebirch, obeyed the she-cat without question.

Toms. So many toms. Even the curious apprentices that raced past him on their missions for bedding were toms. He had figured that all the she-cats were stuffed in the nursery, wherever that was, just like Clan Rancor. But here was a she-cat as clan leader, something no Rancor she-cat could ever dream of. Something funny was going on here, and he needed more information before he could act.

Highleap and Eaglepaw sat down just a little behind Mist, keeping an eye on him while the camp bustled into motion.

In short order, he was brought to a nest, thrown into comfortable shadow by the wall of the gorge and a few plants. It was, he had to admit reluctantly, quite comfortable. Again, he had not expected this.

A new tom sat down at the entrance to his nest to stand guard. Much to his amusement, the guard’s back was to him. Either these cats were confident in their skills, something he could end with a deadly swipe of his paw, or else they were less hostile than Rancor warriors.

Since nothing more seemed to be expected of him, he watched the camp beyond his guard and tried to puzzle out how things worked here. Were females treated as equals here? If that was so, where were they? Surely they couldn’t all be in the nursery with kits all at the same time, could they?

A small rustle made his ears twitch and his silver eyes flicked to the left to track the tiny movements of the brush. Finally with a little "unh," a dark brown she-kit squeezed into his prison and looked at him with friendly yellow eyes.

“Hi. I’m Petalkit. Soon to be Petalpaw,” she chirped, not at all bothered by his strange scent.

“Petalpaw?”

“That’s the name I’ll get when I get to be an apprentice. What’s your name?”

She said it so easily, as if it was a declaration that water was wet. He had to swallow before he could say “Mist over Stone Teeth. You can call me Mist.”

“Mist? I like that name. Yeah, your fur looks like the mist that rises from the water in the morning.” The she-kit tipped her head at him, her eyes suddenly penetrating. “Hmm… I like you.”

Mist’s mind went blank and he favored her with a slow blink. “You… what? Do you even know what I’ve done? How easily I could kill you before you clanmates could rescue you?”

“But you won’t.”

So confident! Didn’t this silly ball of fluff know the meaning of fear?

“I won’t? How do you know?” He reached out with a paw and flexed his gleaming red claws so close to her own paw, that his fur brushed hers.

She didn’t even flinch. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re strong. You’re dangerous. You are powerful and skilled. I bet your enemies learned really fast to stay away from you.” She bent down and rubbed her cheek along his extended front leg. “But you’ve never hurt a kit in your life, and you’ve only ever killed because you’ve had to.”

Mist’s heart stopped, and a cold knot of fear tightened in his chest. _What in the…?_

“Oh please don’t do that. I don’t like the smell of fear. You smell like exotic woodlands and open fields. Your fear is covering it all up.” She gave him a look with such limpid, sorrowful eyes that it startled a purr of laughter out of him.

She wiggled her whiskers at him and the fear eased. “I can see things about anyone I look at. I used it on this humongous dog once. My mother swore that she nearly lost a life from fear when I walked right up to him, but I knew he’d never hurt me. He just wanted his daughter back.”

Mist was saved from having to comment by his guard’s ears twitching. The clan cat whipped around with rather, Mist thought, admirable speed and gaped at the guilty faced kit crouching next to Mist. “Petalkit! Get out of there at once!”

“Oops. I guess I’d better go. I’m not really supposed to be in here you know.”

“So it would seem.” Mist murmured, his whiskers twitching.

She squeezed out, leaving him with even more to puzzle over than before. She-kits became apprentices? They learned alongside toms? It seemed like they were treated like equals here. But where were the others? Surely a clan couldn’t survive with only one female leader and one she-kit… right?


	4. Chapter 4

Rainstar paced back and forth in front of Petalkit, a heavy frown on her muzzle. “Petalkit, what are we going to do with you? You just can’t seem to avoid getting into trouble. Do you even have the slightest glimmer of understanding how much of a risk you took?”

Petalkit looked at her leader a calm expression, “I’m sorry you worried. But I wasn’t in any danger.”

“You couldn’t know that!” Rainstar whipped around and crossed the distance between them in three swift strides until they were nose to nose. “You are a kit! You’ve never been exposed to real danger. You don’t have the experience necessary to understand just how much harm could come to you!”

Petalkit refused to back down. Instead she lifted her chin and stared straight into Rainstar’s eyes. “Are you angry because you were afraid for my safety, or are you upset because I’m showing the same lack of fear you did when you were a kit?”

Rainstar recoiled from Petalkit, her eyes wide in shock, but couldn’t look away from the penetrating yellow eyes that locked with her own dark green eyes. “What did you say?”

“When you were a kit, you did something very dangerous. Starclan was watching out for you, since you’re alive now. But now that you’re older, you realize just how much danger you had put yourself in. What happened?” Petalkit blinked and broke their gaze.

Silence stretched between them as Rainstar sat, immobilized. Then, slowly, she meowed, “I found an adder at the edge of the camp. Instead of running away, I swatted at it with my paws. It coiled up to strike at me. It was so quick. But I jumped. It hit the place I had just been, and I came down on its head, all claws out. Then I jumped clear. It kept getting angrier and angrier. And I kept leaping and bashing its head into the stone. The whole clan was terrified; too terrified to intervene in case the distraction got me killed. In the end, I killed the snake and added it to the freshkill pile all by myself. I was five moons old, cocky and proud of myself. I should have left it alone. I should have warned a warrior so they could kill it or lure it safely away.”

“That was very brave of you.” Petalkit meowed softly in awe.

“It was also incredibly foolish. I had no experience in hunting or fighting. Praise Starclan that I had the hunting instincts that kept me alive. Now, how did you know about that?”

“I didn’t.” Petalkit tipped her head. “I just see things sometimes. I can tell things about someone that become more clear the more I look at them. Like I saw that the dog… Longclaw… would never harm us. Mist isn’t a bad cat. In fact, I think he could learn a lot from us.”

Rainstar was quiet for a few heartbeats, thoughts flitting back and forth behind her eyes. Finally she gave herself a tiny nod. “I think I know how to make this work out for the best. Someone needs to keep an eye on you, and keep you busy so you don’t have time to get yourself into trouble or disobey. And perhaps it will benefit Mist as well. Go straight back to the nursery and give yourself a good grooming. You’re going to be my apprentice.”

“Really?!” Petalkit sprang to her paws with an excited gasp. “Oh thank you Rainstar!”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Rainstar warned the kit sternly, “I plan to make you work hard, and I expect you to take this seriously. If the clan hears that I’m working on the word of a kit… or a fresh apprentice… it will only cause trouble.”

As Petalkit bounded out of her den, Rainstar sighed and called Whitebirch and Maplefur in. The mysterious Rogue called Mist still couldn’t be trusted, and she wanted to hear her trusted Deputy’s thoughts, as well as Maplefur’s on how to handle him.

What was worse, there was no way of knowing what his connection was to the terrified, traumatized queen lying in the nursery. He wasn’t admitting to anything, but what if he was responsible for her fear? Could he have been the one to hurt her so? It was a possibility, but there was no proof. Either way, something had to be done for her too.

 

.

 

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Rockpile for a clan meeting!”

Mist blinked and lifted his head at the call. Then to his surprise…

“You too Mist. Rainstar asked me to bring you to the meeting.” The warrior Kestrelwing poked his nose into Mist’s prison.

Tension danced up his spine, but be obediently followed. Was he to be ripped apart by the whole clan? It didn’t look that way. None of the warriors looked tense. There were curious murmurs all around, but no cat did more than glance at Mist.

“Cats of Skyclan, the time has come to make apprentices out of the three kits still in the nursery.”

Immediately, Mist was bored. This had no relevance to him at all. He wasn’t a clan member, and the kits would be taught by other cats. Why was he here?

“…And finally, Petalkit. From this day on, until you receive your warrior name, you will be known as Petalpaw. I will be your mentor.”

Mist blinked and turned to stare. The she-cat leader was taking on a she-cat apprentice.

Rainstar continued. “I hope that you will take your duties seriously and strive to learn everything I have to teach you.”

Eagerly, Petalpaw touched her leader’s nose, small chest swelling with pride.

Rainstar finally raised her head and locked eyes with Mist. He was taken aback by her singling him out. He still half expected the clan leader to order his death, or to at least drive him out. Instead she meowed, “Mist Over Stone Teeth, come forward.”

Cats made way for him, and his fur prickled. Yet no cat struck out at him, and soon he stood before the clan leader.

“Mist, you come to us on a search. For reasons that are your own, you will not tell us more than that. For the safety of the clan, we cannot let you roam about unaccompanied. Therefore, I will give you a choice. If you choose to stay, you will learn from us, take on responsibilities, and make yourself useful as you contribute to the clan as a whole.”

Mist’s mind felt numb. This was so unlike his own experiences with Clan Rancor that he couldn’t think of anything to say. This was… different. It felt surreal.

Rainstar continued, her eyes boring into his own. “If this is not what you wish, you have Skyclan’s blessing on your search, and you are free to leave. May you find what you seek… away from our clan.”

This at last, grounded him back to reality.

“I will stay.” Mist meowed. “I know what I seek is very close, and has not moved on.”

There were murmurings in the clan behind him and paws shuffled. Rainstar stilled them with a look. “Then until the time comes when your search comes to its end, you will be a guest in our clan. Since I have an apprentice of my own, I will undertake teaching you the ways of Skyclan at her side. There is, however, one stipulation. A second warrior will be with us at all times. This will keep the learning process balanced, since teaching an apprentice is as much a full time task as teaching a newcomer.”

Mist wanted purr a laugh, but he kept his expression relaxed. She was saying, tactfully, that she didn’t trust him enough to risk letting him have free reign. The second warrior was to be a guard on him as much as it was a second teacher. And yet, she had spoken the truth as well; training a young cat was indeed a full time task, and she spoke with no malice and quite a bit of good natured humor. What could he do but accept this stipulation?

“Let us begin by gathering moss for our elder,” Rainstar meowed, as the gathering broke up. “When we’re done, perhaps a border patrol. Kestrelwing, with me please.”

An Elder! This clan took care of its elders?! Clan Rancor toms fought until they died in battle. She-cats were killed after they gave birth twice and reached five Snowseasons of age. He hadn’t heard of caring for elders since… since… His mind skittered away from that tragic memory. It did no good to sorrow over the past, and this was neither the time nor the place.

He was surprised when, instead of seeking out a tree, Rainstar led the way to a small cave at the edge of the river. Petalpaw gathered up a big mouth full of moss, shaking it out thoroughly and then stepping away to make room for Mist to do the same. His mind whirled as they padded up the slope to a sun soaked ledge where an ancient black she-cat lay contentedly in the sun.

Her fur was thin and almost white in places from age. Her frail body looked skeletal; age had taken her strength until there was nothing but a tottering frame. And yet… both eyes opened as they came up to her level, and her deep brown eyes glittered with intelligence and a clear mind.

“Welcome Petalpaw,” she croaked, “Have a new nest for me then?”

“Yes Longwhisker,” the young she-cat mewed respectfully. “This is Mist, he’s learning how to be a clan cat too.”

Those eyes rested on the Red Claw with the same clarity, and for just a heartbeat, he saw the echo of what a magnificent and graceful warrior the old creature had once been. Feeling as awed as a kit, he bowed his head deeply to her, saved from having to say anything by the thick wad of moss in his jaws.

“Well, good to see that even rogues have good manners,” came the quietly amused croak. “Please don’t let me stop you. A fresh nest will feel good for my old bones.”

A lump formed in Mist’s throat, and he couldn’t think or say anything. Fortunately, he didn’t have to, and in short order, a cushy nest had been built in the shelter of the cliff wall. He couldn’t help but gaze back over his shoulder as he followed Petalpaw up the gorge wall to where Rainstar and Kestrelwing were waiting. It had been a long time… a long time indeed since he had gently scraped the last paw full of earth over the last grave he and his siblings had dug. It had been a long time since they had sat in silent, sorrowful vigil. And yet, even now the memory made his breath hitch and his eyes burn.

He was, however, completely composed by the time he reached the rim of the gorge. No other cat commented on the scent of sorrow that they certainly would have caught from his fur, and the swift lope as they headed into the forest quickly turned his mind away from the sad memories.

“This is our scent line. Remember it, and be sure to mark it clearly. You too Mist. As long as you live with us, your strengths and skills should be turned toward the good of the clan.” Rainstar meowed.

Mist’s thoughts stumbled. It wasn’t an unreasonable request. In fact, what she asked of him was exactly what he and his brothers did for their own territory. What left him greatly confused… was that she was having him scent mark, when he was so very obviously not one of her clan.

He wasn’t…and she was treating him like he was. He couldn’t make the concept click. He obeyed, but he couldn’t understand.

It was the same for hunting; Petalpaw had a great deal more to learn that he did, but still every bit of prey he caught came back to the clan. And his contributions were welcomed with enthusiasm; being praised by cats who barely knew him was also incredibly strange.

And then… battle skills.

Over the next quarter moon, no cat asked Mist to demonstrate his fighting skills. All focus was on teaching the apprentice, and her own brothers, who had been given to mentors during the same ceremony that Petalpaw had. She practiced with him, and it amused and delighted him with how quickly she was learning to use her small size to her advantage.

More than once, she surprised him with a clever trick that she had worked out and wanted to try on him. It was never enough to _best_ him of course; no one but his own brothers or sister had the skill or the power do that. Had the battle been in earnest, he could have torn her life out of her in the blink of an eye. But something inside him softened around the young she-cat. And every time she pounced upon him, he allowed himself to be bowled over or pinned. Her small jaws closed lightly over one of his ears or on a leg in practice, and he rewarded her determination and growing skill by teaching her little tricks that his own siblings had learned when they had been younger about using small size to an advantage.

Mist could feel the sad, dark place in his heart lighten as she grew more confident… the way a she-cat should. He waited patiently, watching her absorb battle skills, learning their Warrior Code alongside her.

The others were watching him, he knew. They would be stupid not to. And maybe he was teaching them a tiny bit about his own battle moves. But it was always carefully controlled, and he never let them see his full battle power. He was waiting for the request to be made for him to show what he could do. It would come soon… and then…

His ears flicked back for the tiniest flicker of time…and then he would terrify them all.

For some reason, that made him sad. These cats weren’t bad…

In fact, when he outright asked the other toms, he learned that a generation of kits had resulted in only a single female. It had been unusual, and a little alarming, as the she-cats of the time were experienced warriors, or else trickling into the elder’s den. The next Newleaf, there had been nothing but toms, even though Rainstar had chosen to give birth in the hope of she-kits. The Newleaf after that, every queen but the single female now known as Nightheart was too old to have kits, and only Petalpaw and her brothers had been born.

This was devastating news. The clan was facing extinction. No one admitted to it, but this was causing an undercurrent of desperation at a level that made Mist’s fur twitch. He would never get Silver or her kits out of here without a very desperate fight.

Skyclan couldn’t risk letting them go, and he could not leave risk leaving them behind. This was going to require some heavy thinking.


	5. Chapter 5

Evening Of The Raging Wind, Rain in Fading Light, and Reed in River Current turned out to be fantastic hunters. It began in fits and starts, with mistakes and uncertainty. But then the she-cats began to bloom into magnificent warriors.

Ghost and Otter were patient, and encouraging. Rain was the first to get a boost of confidence when she brought down a bird. Evening absorbed fighting techniques with an eagerness that was borne of a lifetime of dreaming of just such an opportunity. Only Reed was slow to learn, and only because both hunting and fighting were far more alien to her personality than it was for the other two.

She kept flinching. The Throttle Hold kept missing. Or she gasped in terror and released Otter instantly when he struggled the way an enemy warrior would, afraid to finish the move.

“Reed,” Ghost meowed gently, “You must stop flinching.”

“I…I know but… he keeps kicking me. And I’m afraid I’ll hurt him. You know what happens to she-cats who fight back against a tom.”

Ghost, Otter, Evening and Rain all shared a glance.

“Reed in River Current, I did not give you your name so that you would shrink beneath the surface and avoid making ripples,” Otter scolded, “And an enemy will indeed kick at you. The difference is, an enemy will be fighting with all his might, and he could very well kill you if you do the move wrong.”

“Let me try something,” Evening interrupted. “Reed, fight with _me_.”

Reed stared, eyes wide in shock and disbelief.

Evening did not let her have a chance to decline. With a yowl of rage and fury, she charged at the shy she-cat exactly the way a Rancor tom would. This time, instinct and training kicked in.

Reed spun and raced ahead of her opponent, vanishing into the tall grass. There was a rustle, a gasp, and a thump, and then… silence.

The other Red Claws padded after the two, already knowing what they would see.

The long grass told the tale. It was a technique that Lightning had perfected, and a technique that the toms had been teaching the she-cats for a quarter moon.

To lure an enemy into the grass where visibility was poor, cut a tight turn and explode out from the side. The enemy tom would be struck in a way that drove the breath from his lungs, and allow the ferocious she-cat to choke him to death or otherwise simply break his neck. It was how Lightning fought. It was how she was never seen by Rancor cats. The only cats who saw her, also gave chase… and they were killed immediately.

Evening lay limply in Reed’s grasp, wheezing as the she-cat’s grip squeezed her windpipe. “Very…good…”

Reed’s eyes flew wide in horror and she dropped her clanmate with a mewl of horror. “Evening! I… Oh sky around us, I’m sorry! Please, I’ll never do it again! I didn’t mean to… you… you’re laughing? How can you laugh about this?! I’m your clanmate and I just tried to strangle you!”

Evening staggered to her paws and butted her head against Reed’s cheek, purring with laughter. “Of course I’m laughing, you feather head! You did exactly what you were supposed to do! Sky above us, what do you think we’ve been training you for?”

“B-but…”

“Reed,” Ghost murmured gently, gliding up to the stricken she-cat’s side, “In that moment, Evening wasn’t your clan mate. And you did exactly what you should have. There is no honor in a battle with Rancor toms.”

Reed swallowed.

“All right. You’ve shown that you can do it. You were brilliant!” Otter meowed, “Now you must do the same thing… only do it to me, as I’m a Rancor tom... and I’m coming for you.”

Evening watched the two cats flash off into the grass and turned to Ghost. “How soon will another she-cat be joining us?”

“Tomorrow evening. Would you like to join me? I think Streak would react very well to seeing you again.”

Evening’s eyes widened until they gleamed. “My sister! Oh yes!”

 

.

 

Ghost and Evening paused at the edge of Clan Rancor territory.

“Now remember,” he murmured very quietly to Evening, “stay hidden. Do not call out to her. Ignore every cat you thought you knew. Wait until Quickclaw leaves. This is not a pleasure jaunt. There is always the risk that another Rancor tom will spot us. Stay close, stick to your training, and we will fine.”

The she-cat nodded solemnly.

They kept low, slipping from hiding place to hiding place until they reached the foul smelling Resting Place. At Ghost’s signal, Evening circled downwind, where the stench of the Resting Place wafted over her. She obeyed with a grimace of distaste. The stench of death would conceal her scent from any Rancor tom, adding extra protection to the sharp scent of the pine sap already in her fur.

Ghost was like his namesake, wafting smoothly along the rim of the great pit until he was near the path leading to the Rancor camp. Soon the plants wiggled, and Quickclaw appeared, leading Streak to her meeting with the Red Claw. A few words were exchanged and Quickclaw turned away, padding into the underbrush.

Warmth swelled in the she-cat’s chest as the confused-but-obedient Streak followed him. Streak had dreamed of swimming ever since she had been a kit, and even dreams in the nursery had her paws paddling more than once, even as a grown queen. Evening wanted to have a word with Otter about teaching any she-cat who was interested about his technique.

Suddenly the plants nearby bent and a sandy brown muzzle stretched just a bit farther out, lips curled in a snarl of rage.

Evening’s heart plummeted. Scratchface. This was one of the six toms in Bane’s inner circle. Smart, cold, and vicious, he was notorious for liking the culling ritual a little more than was healthy. He must have gotten jealous of Quickclaw for taking his favorite pastime away and followed him. If he reported back to Bane…

Without a sound, the she-cat leaped out of her hiding place and lashed out with a powerful raking blow. Scatchface was taken completely by surprise as she knocked him into a cocklebur plant.

He swore quite inventively, a dethatched part of her mind noted with glee, as he struggled free of the small but nasty little plant. By the time we was back on his paws, his fur was covered in spiny, painful looking burs that would be horrendous to work out of his pelt.

Scratchface blinked at her in confusion, looking from the painful row of bleeding scratches on his shoulder to the sneering female who stood before him. “Evening? What…?”

He wasn’t attacking yet… she had to keep him from thinking; keep him from putting things together; keep him from realizing that the best thing he could do was warn Bane.

“I’m Evening of the Raging Wind to you, Rancor dirt! I’m a warrior, and I’m as good as any tom!” Her paw flashed out, raking his nose.

His head rocked back, then whipped around, eyes seething with rage beyond all reason. He leaped toward her with an incoherent snarl. That was the cue she had been looking for. With a gasp, as though his ferocity had broken some false courage, she turned and dove into the nearby undergrowth with Scratchface in hot pursuit. She made the tight turn, came back... and…

There was a sickening crack and she felt the life flee from Scratchface’s body.

Suddenly everything was all too real as she dropped his lifeless body. His eyes were already glazing as she stared at his face; gone slack with death. The rage was gone, and all that was left was a tom, who looked like any queen’s kit, all grown up.

Her stomach twisted with nausea and horror, and she spun back toward the edge of the Resting Place to empty her stomach of its contents. She made it, barely. She took a breath, tasted the death on the wind, and lost her stomach again.

Ghost’s warm tail draped across her shoulders and gently drew her away from the edge. “I think it’s time we left.”

“How do you do it?” she whispered. “I’ve been a queen. I’ve suckled kits, watched them grow up… and to just take a life like that… it…”

“We’ve been doing it for a very long time,” he murmured. “This is not the place to talk. We need to leave. But I will tell you this: as long as killing feels like a horrible thing, you’ll be able to stop and never look back once this is all over.”

“How could it ever stop feeling like a horrible thing?”

Something that Evening could not name flashed through Ghost’s eyes. Instead of answering, he murmured to Evening, and the silent, stunned Streak, “Always remember that Rancor toms aren’t your allies. They are not your friends. They are not your clan mates. When they see you, nothing will be in their heads but to kill you. You will be an abomination. You will be defying your place by daring to fight back. And this enrages them. They will not stop, and they will not talk. Nothing will cross their minds but pure rage, and the urge to kill you. You must always be ready to fight to the death. It does not make it right, but it is necessary.”

“What about…” She gestured toward where Scatchface’s cooling body lay.

“I will take care of it. It is not the first time a Rancor tom has been ‘taught a lesson for trespassing on Red Claw land.’ Take Streak home. I think she and Otter will have a lot to talk about.”

Evening blinked in surprise, and Ghost put his whiskers forward kindly before turning to pad into the undergrowth.

 

.

 

Silver lay in the nursery, her eyes half closed and despair surging beneath her pelt like mud spilling down a mountain. She had escaped one clan, only to be captured by another while she had been helpless. It wasn’t fair! The ancestors had driven her out of Clan Rancor, and they couldn’t even be bothered to protect her from the next! Now, here she lay in another nursery… probably never to see the sun again…

“Silver?”

She flinched, but meowed steadily, “Yes Maplefur?”

The strange, gentle tom poked his face cautiously into the nursery, “It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t you come out and let your kits explore for a bit? You’ve all been cooped up in there for a quarter moon now. I don’t know about you, but my pelt would be itching for a good long soak in the sun.”

“Outside?” Squeaked Starlight, “We can go outside?”

Silver opened her mouth; to refuse, to accept, to stutter incoherently, she did not know. But Maplefur didn’t give her a chance.

“Of course! Yes, Patter, you too. All three of you, please, come out and get some sunshine.” Maplefur backed out and the two kits followed him with eager squeaks.

“Wha-wait!” Silver was left to scramble free of her nest. Her kits were outside, in a clan full of toms! She couldn’t let them have them!

The sun was indeed bright after her long stint in the nursery, and she lost many precious heartbeats as the light blinded her.

“Here now,” came Maplefur’s kind voice, “Isn’t this better? Fresh air will do you good.”

By the time Silver’s eyes cleared, her kits were far across the clearing. Starlight was stalking a powerful looking tom’s tail tip off to her left. Patter was investigating the edge of a stream to the right, with another tom watching her like an eagle ready to pounce.

Kits in two directions, and no possible way to rescue both. She gasped and started forward, only to be stopped by a tail flicking across her chest.

“Silver, it’s all right. None of our cats will harm a kit… or let one come to harm either. Our warriors will keep an eye on them.” Maplefur murmured gently.

Starlight’s hindquarters gave a wiggle and then she pounced. The tail she had been stalking flicked out of her path in the nick of time and tapped her between her ears. With a squeak of feigned outrage, she swatted at it, trying to capture it and pin it between her paws.

The warrior at the other end of the tail had turned his head and was watching the kit with a gleam in his eye as he tapped, teased and flicked his tail about too swiftly for her to catch it. There was no mistaking the delight in his eyes as he played with the little she-kit. Then, by some instinct, Starlight dropped into a near perfect hunter’s crouch, and this time he rewarded her by letting her catch his agile tail.

Patter, on the other paw, was peering down at the water while the alert tom murmured to her in a cautioning tone. He dipped a paw in, showing the kit that this was deep water, and could not simply be walked across. He slid in, and vanished completely beneath the surface while the kit gaped. He surfaced, paddled strongly for a few heartbeats, then climbed out; water streaming from his pelt.

Slowly, the queen’s terrified trembling eased. They didn’t seem to be too bad… for toms. And stars above, the sun felt wonderful on her pelt. No cat objected to her being out of the nursery. On the contrary, several cats paused in their tasks to enthusiastically ask after her comfort. One even nodded to the freshkill pile and invited her to help herself.

“How long am I allowed to be out of the nursery?” She asked, feeling drowsy as the sun on her fur warmed her and improved her mood.

Maplefur opened his mouth, and then shut it. Finally, he took a deep breath and turned serious eyes on her. “Normally I would say that you could come out whenever it pleased you. But one of those Red Claws you were so frightened of is here in the clan. He’s away on patrol right now, which is why I invited you outside. We’re keeping him away from the nursery, at least until he tells us exactly what he wants from you.”

Silver sucked in a terrified breath, all drowsiness gone. “We must leave! Now! It’s only a matter of time before…”

“It will only be a matter of time no matter what happens.” Interjected a new voice. Silver turned her head and gaped at the black she-cat that had left the nursery shortly after she had arrived.

Nightheart was a senior she-cat, nearly five Snowseasons old. When her kits had left the nursery, Silver had thought that she had been culled, as Clan Rancor would have done. Yet here she stood, pelt glossy with health and – she realized in astonishment in the bright sunlight—sporting well toned muscles beneath her pelt. This was no soft Clan Rancor she-cat; but a fierce warrior, equal to any tom.

The realization struck her mind such powerful a blow that she had trouble focusing on the next words, “We will protect you, and your kits. You won’t have that if you run away. You would have to hunt constantly to feed your kits, and there is always the risk of him finding them while you are away.”

Silver quivered, her eyes desperate and pleading as she looked from one Skyclan cat to the other. “What can I do then?”

The two shared a glance, as though they had been waiting for this question. Finally Nightheart looked Silver straight in the eyes and meowed, “We would like to teach you how to fight.”

Silver stared at them for a moment. Then said, in a small voice, “You would… teach me?”

“Of course! I’m sure we can work something out that will let you learn while keeping you safe at the same time. We’ll also find someone to keep your kits busy and cared for as well, so they don’t get into mischief.” Nightheart purred in amusement, as though she knew from experience how kits could be. “In the meantime, let’s work on the simple moves first. But you must learn quickly. We don’t know when time will run out, and you two will meet.”


	6. Chapter 6

It was harder than Lightning had expected to keep hidden. Skyclan lived in a gorge, stripped nearly bare of all vegetation. Blank stone and boulders offered very little concealment. Worse, there were no conifers here to rub resin into her fur to disguise her scent. She had to make do with various stinky plants, and though they were pungent enough to hide her scent, they were also very easy to identify. It would only take one warrior to realize that the plants he smelled did not grow so close to the gorge, and then she would be found.

Several times she had been forced to take to the trees, which didn’t protect her the way it did from Clan Rancor. These cats could **_jump_** , and they were very comfortable high above the ground. Once, one had leaped up and snatched a bird only a whisker length below her paws. How she had remained unseen and unsmelled was thanks only to her ability to read the direction of the winds and her skill at vanishing amongst leaves.

She could watch, and listen. But the things they talked about among their own apprentices centered around hunting and border patrols. She hadn’t been able to figure out where they trained for fighting; the only place it could be was down in the gorge, where there was no cover for her to observe them safely. No one gossiped while doing their duties, and she had yet to see a cat challenge their border.

There had been no screams or screeches, which would have heralded Mist needing to fight to the death. No one limped from wounds that he surely would have inflicted if the fight had been deadly and silent. Lightning had to simply assume that things were going well, or at least, not as badly as they could be.

She had explored up and down the rim of the gorge, but there was no other way in. The wall had collapsed not too long ago, but there was no way to use it. The rocks had formed a pile at the bottom, and there was nothing left above that to scale but sheer stone wall. Agile and excellent at climbing as she was, this was one height she didn’t want to risk.

All in all, it was both frustrating… and boring.

She watched as yet another patrol padded past beneath her. She glanced down, and was stunned to spot Mist walking with a patrol of other cats. There was also a she-cat, who was teaching another she-cat just out of kithood, and a strong tom. She nearly fell out of the tree. She-cats hunted here!?

Indeed they did! Mist watched calmly as the she-cat instructed the younger cat on hunting techniques. Suddenly things got a lot less boring! Well, really, that changed everything!

With avid fascination, she watched them, for that day and for several others until over a quarter moon had passed. The little one, Petalpaw, was a delight to watch. She was often too high in the tree to hear what was said, but it was obvious that they were teaching one another.

_Well that decides things,_ she thought. _It’s time to introduce myself and see how things go._

The next day, Lightning made sure to wash the stinky plant juice out of her fur well away from the clan borders. Which role should she play? Fellow warrior? Hmm, perhaps not. She didn’t know how these cats would react. Sure they had she-cats, but why only three? There was something about that made her wary. Maybe play a bit on the helpless and skittish side. If she was attacked, well… she could shred them and a few less toms to worry about was all right with her. On the other paw, if they were less violent than Clan Rancor, a frightened and shy she-cat would certainly seem harmless enough. They might slip and give something away.

Decided, she raced across the open land until she came back to the scent marks. This was it. She was going to take the risk. Mist would hate this. In fact, he would want to shake her until ‘some sense starts rattling around in your brain’ as he would say. He always had been more afraid for his sister’s safety than Ghost and Otter.

Maybe that was because he remembered… _No! Now is not the time to think back to such terrible, heart breaking memories!_

Slowly, she strolled along the edge, letting the tips of her fur brush against the plants at the border. No scent marking, just leaving a trail of her scent here. She had no reason to hurry. The sun was rising above the distant horizon, bringing with it a gentle warmth, and sooner or later, patrols were sure to smell her, and come checking.

Almost as soon as she thought that, she heard the sounds of someone coming through the underbrush; quiet but not stealthy.

“Well hello there.”

Lightning gasped and spun, as though she had been caught by surprise.

He was coming out of the underbrush; a longhaired cream and brown tom with a broad, handsome face and golden eyes that were warm as the sun.

Lightning suddenly felt very shy… and very self conscious. That was new. But she didn’t falter in her charade. She and her brothers had practiced it over and over. She widened her eyes and backed away a few steps.

“I’m not trespassing!” she said, quick and defensive.

“I didn’t think you were,” the tom meowed kindly. “I just said ‘hello’.”

Lightning snuffled her paws, as though uncertain then meowed uneasily, “Er… Hello. Well, I guess I’d better go.”

“Oh… must you?” If his tone had gone oily and sleazy, Lightning would have left then and there. Instead it was… disappointed… and a little hopeful. It was as if he wanted to entice her to stay, but didn’t want to try forcing her.

How odd.

Lightning hesitated, and then slowly sat down where she had been standing; a few pawsteps across the border from him.

“My name is Quailfur.” He offered.

“Lightning. Lightning that Strikes At Night.”

He tipped his head, eyes lighting up, “I bet you are!” He breathed in awe, as though imagining her as a silvery bolt of muscle and claws shooting through the darkness.

Lightning felt her pelt warm, but the sounds of more cats approaching warned her that she couldn’t stay. Talking to one cat was fine. The whole patrol… not okay.

“I... I have to go,” she meowed abruptly, backing away still farther.

“All right.” This time he nodded to her. “Will you come back?”

“Maybe.” She allowed. Then turned and bounded away from him, dropping out of sight beneath the waving blades of grass as soon as she could.

All pretense of shyness melted away once she was out of sight, and she risked peering back toward the border. Now she was more relieved than ever that she had fled. It looked like Mist was with this patrol. And it wouldn’t do for the clan to know that the two cats knew each other. At least, not yet. Still… she had tested the tom… and he had done surprisingly well. Nothing about him had been hostile, domineering or arrogant.

_I think he likes me._ She realized. _And I think he likes me the way a tom should like me, rather than the way a Rancor Tom would simply want me._ She sighed regretfully. _Worse, I think I like him too._ _What am I going to do about that? We’ll have to separate once Mist gets Silver and her kits out. And a two day trip means we aren’t likely to ever see each other ever again._

 

.

 

Mist swallowed down his horror as he spotted the familiar pelt of his sister vanish amongst the long blades of grass. Lightning had risked her safety by letting a Skyclan tom see her! He knew they had agreed that she would join him if everything seemed safe, but it still dropped his heart into his paws. Lightning had suffered more than her brothers, and Mist couldn’t help but feel protective of her.

He glanced at Quailfur, and amusement welled up inside him to replace the horror. The tom was gazing after his sister with an expression of gentleness, and hope.

Everything about these cats practically beat him about the head that they were good cats. And yet there was always that irrational fear in him that they would reveal something dark and terrible about themselves the moment he lowered his guard. Then again, Clan Rancor had already left its scars on his ability to trust.

“Is that a she-cat I smell?” he meowed.

“Yes.” Quailfur murmured, still staring off in the direction Lightning had gone. “Very shy. Poor thing, I think she’s been treated badly by other cats.”

_My sister? Shy?_ Mist didn’t snort in amusement the way he wanted to, but he nodded. She had played her timid guise well apparently. Good. She was being careful. “Life is very hard outside of the clan. Other cats are cruel. They could kill you, or just let you die if you’re not strong enough to defend yourself.”

“I…hope she comes back.” Quailfur murmured, half to himself.

“Fancy her do you? Already?” Mist meowed teasingly, but his tail waved in good humor to show that he didn’t mean anything by it.

“She’s beautiful,” Quailfur’s paws shuffled self-consciously, “and our clan needs she-cats. We want to make them feel welcome.”

“Imagining a she-cat hunting and fighting at your side?” Mist was very careful to keep the challenge out of his voice. He couldn’t sound hostile; not now. He needed an honest answer from the tom who was mooning after his sister, and he would be guarded if he was thrown on the defensive.

Quailfur’s eyes lit up. “We all want that,” he meowed eagerly. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to live in a clan with so few she-cats?”

Mist purred in agreement. Living with two brothers and a sister did make Mist wish they had someone pretty to appreciate and hunt with.

“All right dreamers, let’s finish our patrol before we start planning for future kits.” Owlcall finally prodded.

Mist noted that he had waited patiently for the two to stop talking. No doubt this conversation would be reported to Rainstar. Not that he minded. If Rainstar knew a she-cat had been about, she would be just as eager as Quailfur to hear about her possible return.

And again, the cats had given the right answer. But they couldn’t stay. He shot a worried glance in the direction his sister had gone. Whatever love swelled in her chest; whatever hopes made her fur warm; whatever future she hoped to have; they had a mission that they couldn’t abandon. And depending on how things panned out, she might have her heart broken.

 

.

 

“Ghost?”

The pale gray tom paused in the middle of sharing tongues with Otter to see Rain, Streak of Light, and Reed standing with their chins raised and expressions of determination on their faces.

Rain took a deep breath, “Ghost, I would like to take Streak and Reed on a border patrol of the Rancor border. We’ve patrolled the other three edges, with nothing bigger than a grasshopper to challenge us. I’d like to test our stealth skills.”

It took all of Ghost’s willpower not to shudder at the thought of the three she-cats going anywhere near their former tormentors. Streak of Light was still very new to the concept of fighting, and even Reed and Rain only had half a moon of fighting skills under their pelts. Evening had proven herself capable, but the other three were unblooded, so to speak.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Otter meowed thoughtfully. “Let’s make it an…” He paused, searching for the word they hadn’t heard since they had been kits, “...an Appraisal.”

Ghost blinked in surprise and gave Otter a tiny nod of relief.

“What’s an… Appraisal?” Streak tipped her head.

“It’s when Pupils, young cats, get their adult names as warriors.” Otter said, warming to the subject, “We’ve sort of skipped that part with you, so we need to make up for it. We send you out to do a task, in this case a border patrol, and a skilled warrior follows and observes at a distance. We watch to see how you handle yourselves, and don’t interfere unless you really need it. If you do well, you are given your adult names and welcomed as a warrior. Since you have your adult names, all that’s left is to show us what you’ve learned.”

The three she-cats shared an eager look, “Yes! Please!”

“All right. Off you go.” Otter purred softly in amusement as the three scampered off, eager as kits. “They grow up so fast,” he mewed, putting on the tone of a fretful queen.

If Ghost had been drinking, he would have snorted the water. As it was, he waved his brother off as his whiskers jittered on his muzzle. “Get out of here, you silly fur ball. Mist will be jealous that you’re stealing his humor.”

Once they were out of sight, he turned to Evening, who had remained quiet throughout. “You didn’t want to go with them?”

She flinched. “No, I’ve had quite enough Clan Rancor… anything for a while.” She paused then meowed, almost shyly, “But if you would like to Appraise my hunting…”

“I think I would like that,” he agreed, understanding at once.


	7. Chapter 7

The day was warm, and had begun as peaceful as always. Dawn patrol had padded out and come back. A hunting patrol was just gathering.

Mist glanced at the nursery. He needed a plan, and none had come to him in the past several days. Lightning was slowly warming to Quailfur, and she would join him in the camp soon. If he could just…

“Rogues!”

Mist’s head whipped around as Lightning and Quailfur skidded down the path into the gorge.

Cats popped out of their dens, eyes wide in alarm, demanding information and begging for a plan all in the same breath.

“Calm down!” Rainstar yowled, “Quailfur, how many?” Her gaze flicked to Lightning, blinked, and then focused sharply on Quailfur.

“Many.” Lightning gasped instead, “They were crossing the field where I was sleeping, heading straight here. I counted twelve of them.”

“Twelve…” Rainstar closed her eyes and shook her head briefly. “All right, youngest and oldest cats into the dens. Warriors, form a line.”

The clan flashed into motion, forming ranks, stretching muscles to prepare for battle. Mist was the slowest to prepare, his eyes thoughtful. It was too dangerous to go for Silver and the kits now, even with the clan distracted. If he fought the Rogues, the entire clan would be put on guard. If he didn’t fight, the clan might throw him out. He sighed silently. It could go bad no matter which way he turned. And Lightning was already here. The plan had been accelerated. There was nothing he could do about that now…

The rogues spilled down the path, eyes alight with the lust for battle. They leaped upon the clan cats without even a pause, and screeches and snarls echoed from the walls.

Lighting vanished into the melee, but he knew she could take care of herself. Although her normal tactic was to lure an enemy away and ambush him, she had also been carefully drilled in open battle, just in case. Blood would flow, and very little of it would be hers. She was quick, she fought dirty, and she knew exactly how to make each blow really hurt.

Mist had his own problems to worry about. It was the most muscular tom he had ever encountered! He didn’t hesitate. He never hesitated. He attacked with the full savagery he used when in battle with Clan Rancor.

Fur flew, skin tore, and with a grunt of effort, Mist seized the tom and pitched him across the floor of gorge and straight into the stream with a satisfying splash.

The tom spluttered, flailed, and finally hauled himself out of the water to flee. He was not alone. Several of the other rogues were also in full flight.

Mist scowled to himself. He was going soft. If that had been a Rancor tom, he would have killed, rather than simply tossing him in for an unpleasant but relatively harmless dunking.

Turning around, he joined Highleap in dragging another Rogue off of Petalpaw’s brother, Molepaw. Seizing a hind leg apiece, he and Highleap dragged the squalling Rogue over backward.

“Got ‘em?” Highleap demanded.

“Go!” Mist pinned the Rogue’s hindquarters just long enough for Highleap to spring forward and strike the Rogue with two powerful, disorienting blows to the head.

That was more than enough for the intruder; who staggered free and fled the gorge.

There was a shriek of fear and Mist whipped around to see a sneering Rogue snapping for Petalpaw’s throat. Rainstar was battling desperately against two hissing she-cats and could do nothing for her apprentice.

He charged.

Rainstar was pinned beneath a Rogue, slashing desperately to fend them off.

Mist landed on the Rogue, and was pleased to hear the air get driven out of his opponent’s lungs. Reflexively, the rogue released the apprentice, mouth gaping as he tried to make his lungs work.

Mist used the opportunity to seize his enemy’s neck in his jaws, tightening down on his spine just enough to be able to snap it with a jerking motion if he tried to keep fighting. He hauled his victim back and was relieved to hear Petalpaw scramble clear of his victim’s paws. The fact that she was still alive was the only reason the Rogue was too.

“Fetch! NO!” The cry from one of the she-rogues cut through the sounds of fighting, and the battle stumbled to a standstill.

She scrambled free of Rainstar and raced over, skidding to a stop when Mist met her eyes with his own cold gaze. Mist growled deeply and wordlessly.

“Please,” the she-cat pleaded, “Please don’t kill him.”

There was no give in Mist’s eyes as he met her own frightened gaze. He was going to make a very clear statement, and if it required blood and death, so be it. With his fur spiked with battle rage and his eyes as cold and distant as the stars, he knew he was a terrifying sight. And that was the way he wanted it; these Rogues had to be under no illusions. If they wanted a fight this badly, then they needed to be fully aware of the price.

“Please,” there was a deep love in the she-cat’s eyes; love and fear for the cat Mist was holding captive. She crouched low and tucked her tail, eyes haunted. “Please…”

The cat, Fetch, was holding very still beneath Mist’s paws.

“There are two ways this fight can end.” Rainstar meowed clearly in the silence.

“Make your decision now!” Mist snarled. He raised a paw, flexed his red claws to their fullest and rested them very close to Fetch’s eye. The message was clear: he was in control, and it was his decision whether he blinded the cat, or killed him outright. “I am not a forgiving cat. You will all leave, and never return. Or I will make your precious Fetch the first, but not the last, death today.”

“W-we’ll go.” The she-cat mewed.

Mist’s eyes narrowed. Her expression said just how much she cared for the flea bitten Rogue. “Very well. You made a wise decision.” Mist released his captive and leaped clear, just in case Fetch thought he could be clever.

Fetch gasped and shook himself, rising to his paws and glaring at Mist. “That was a rotten trick. You would have blinded me without hesitating, wouldn’t you?!”

Mist stared back, letting the killer inside of him come fully to the front. All of the softness that had been awakened with Skyclan bled away. Several Rogues shrank back from him. Several Skyclan warriors did a double-take. “The other option was worse, Fetch. Take your friends and go.”

“Why you filthy, stinking-”

“Fetch!” The she-cat shoved her muzzle into Fetch’s face, “That’s enough! You almost died! He could have maimed you for life! Try being grateful for the fact that he was merciful this time, instead of being such a quarrelsome fur ball. If you can’t then… then... then you’d better never come near me ever again.”

Fetch looked taken aback as the she-cat stomped away.

He shot Mist a final glare and then scrambled after the other Rogues, who were turning away and climbing the long path out of the gorge.

The clan cats were silent, and as the last tail slipped over the lip of the gorge, they turned to stare at Mist. He didn’t shrink within his fur the way he wanted to as the silent, stunned expressions, but he did feel something in his heart tighten with sorrow. He carefully concealed a sad sigh, and began padding away from them. Carefully he squeezed into the sheltered spot that had been his temporary prison over a half moon ago. There was no nest here now, only bare earth. But it didn’t matter.

He had shown them just how vicious he could be. He had been willing to kill or ruthlessly blind that Rogue; there had been no doubt in any cat’s mind, and there had been no hesitation in his heart. And he had used the Rogue as a hostage, something the clan cats never would have even considered. He was a threat to the clan: Rainstar and the other warriors had to see that.

Something sad twitched deep inside of him. _What have I become? Is this really what I’ve lost?_ He pushed it away. It was a lingering echo… the wail of the kit he had once been. The kit who no longer had a place in his world. He had expected the kit to just fade away. But the little one clung stubbornly, whispering words that a better cat would have agreed wholeheartedly with. But Clan Rancor proved again and again that the little kit was nothing more than an empty wish. And Mist Over Stone Teeth had long ago given up hope that he would ever be that better cat.

He sighed, his breath stirring a tiny cloud of dust that blew away from his muzzle. He watched dust motes drift in the shaft of light in his prison. His plans for the future were just as terrible. They too, had no place for the kit inside of him.

Something rustled nearby.

“Go away Petalpaw,” he grouched.

“Engh,” came her reply, “I think I’m going to be too big for this in a few more days.” She wiggled into the small space and pressed her cheek to his. “Come out. Rainstar didn’t want you to be imprisoned for what you did; you decided to come here on your own. She wants to talk to you, and Lightning too.”

Mist turned his head a tiny bit and looked into those piercing eyes that saw far too much. “Tell me what kind of cat I am Petalpaw.” He spoke slowly, as though he didn’t care what the answer was. “Tell me that I’m a warrior worthy of Skyclan. Tell me I am honorable to your code. Tell me how good I am. Tell me I’m not a cold blooded murderer.”

Petalpaw’s mouth twisted into a tiny frown. “You don’t follow our warrior code. Blood pours from your claws and flows as heavy as the water flows through our gorge. But I still stand by what I told you the first time. You’ve never hurt a kit in your life, and you’ve only ever killed because you’ve had to.” She touched her nose to his cheek. “Come out. Please? Talk to us. Tell us the truth. You should trust us to judge you fairly.”

Mist’s laugh was bitter, and echoed unpleasantly in the tight space. “With all due respect Petalpaw, you have been very sheltered here. The horrors of the things I have seen and done would give you nightmares for the rest of your days.” _The worst part is, I don’t have nightmares any more. That that’s what scares me the most; I would have those nightmares if I still felt guilty. I’m not feeling guilty, and I don’t have nightmares. Something inside me died a long time ago._

“You can’t stay in here forever either,” Petalpaw mewed wisely.

Well, this was it. He might as well prepare himself. Slowly, he backed out of his little niche and turned back toward the clan, heavy thoughts dragging his whiskers down. He liked several of the Skyclan cats. If it came to fighting, he would have to kill some of them. And the grieving wails would be a terrible stain on the memory that had somehow turned pleasant during the days and nights he had spent with them.

He was so preoccupied that he hadn’t realized that he had walked right up next to Silver until her scent wrapped itself around him.

He spun, his silver eyes staring into her own startled, pale blue eyes. “Silver! I’ve finally found you!”

The clan was suddenly in motion, closing ranks around the two. Low growls rumbled in several throats.

“Wait!” Lightning’s voice cut through the air. “It’s not what you think!”

“She’s right!” Petalpaw’s mew was quick to join in. “Trust Mist!”

To Mist’s surprise, Rainstar also spoke, “This has been building for a long time. Every cat keep back. Let this situation resolve itself.”

 

.

 

Silver’s fur ruffled uneasily as she stood face to face with the tom who had pursued her for all this time. But she was no longer the terrified she-cat who had fled the Rancor camp. She raised her chin and stared defiantly back at him.

He gave a tiny nod of approval, but he prowled slowly back and forth in front of her, powerful muscles flexing and contracting beneath his pelt. His eyes never broke their stare into her own. “Do you know why I have come?”

“Yes. Clan Rancor sent you to kill me.” She was proud that her voice didn’t waver despite her fear. He moved like a hunter, and there was no doubt in her mind that he could beat her with very little effort. She had seen the terrible look in his eyes as he had faced that Rogue. Her only hope was to go down fighting, and pray to the skies above that she got at least one good hit before he ripped the life from her.

Skyclan murmured and several cats stirred, ready to launch themselves at the Red Claw. A flick of Rainstar’s tail forestalled them.

Amusement flashed through those silver eyes; eyes that could have taken their color from her own pelt. “Yes, that’s true.”

The tom didn’t even pretend to deny it. But he looked like there was a joke somewhere in their conversation that she was missing. And it rankled. It felt like he was so confident that this was only stalling the inevitable and he was playing with her the way a kittypet played with a mouse.

“Well?!” she demanded, “Come on then!”

“Oh but I’m not only here for you. I’m here for your kits too. You have two of them. Both she-cats. Am I right?”

Silver threw herself at him with a yowl of rage, “Don’t you dare!”

Mist was quick. Oh so horribly quick. For all of her ferocity, he beat her with speed. He evaded her charge, caught her with his paws, and rolled. Her momentum was too great, and she was tossed aside as easily as a kit would bat away a leaf. He didn’t even bother to use his claws or his teeth on her.

Silver hit the dirt, rolled, and was on her feet in a heartbeat. But he stood exactly where he had been; he hadn’t even bothered to follow up on the move. Instead, he was watching her whiskers twitching just a bit.

“Very good. I approve of your ferocity, but you need to work on your speed.” He closed the distance between them slowly. “Want to try again? Hold your body lower, keep your weight even on your paws. Don’t leap unless your balance is perfect, or I’ll just toss you around some more.”

Was this crazy fur ball actually lecturing her on how to fight, even as she fought for her life?

She narrowed her eyes, and then attacked again. The advice had seemed oddly right, so she tried it.

And still he was far too quick. Her claws raked through his fur, but somehow he twisted just enough so that she didn’t tear skin. And his body felt like solid stone; she couldn’t unbalance him, overwhelm him or even make him budge a hair more than he wanted to budge. He finally just batted her away.

When they separated, he snorted a bit of dust out of his nose; “Not bad. I actually had to work a bit to avoid you that time.”

“Rrrawwrrr! Stop making fun of me!” Silver leaped, putting all of her speed and fury into the attack.

She hit him, they rolled, and he kicked her away. “Silver, you’re not going to win this way. You’re not capable of defeating me. I’ve been fighting for so much longer than you have...”

“Leave our momma alone!” Two tiny silver forms shot past the distracted Skyclan warriors and threw themselves at the tom.

“Patter! Starlight! No!” Silver staggered to her feet, heart pounding so hard that she thought it was going to burst.

The two kits leaped on the Red Claw, growling in their tiny voices. Patter wrapped all four legs around the tom’s right foreleg and bit with all her might, tiny claws battering at him. Starlight hit his right hind leg and began biting her way up toward his thighs.

“Hey… ow…” The tom was startled. He hadn’t expected the kits to attack. He was distracted. For only a heartbeat, he was distracted.

It was the opportunity Silver needed, as he blinked at the tiny weights that had attached themselves to his legs, she leaped. He whipped about to face her, not fast enough, and by some miracle she had him by the throat. With a shove of her hind legs, she heaved him off his feet and brought him down to earth with a thud. The two kits tumbled free, unharmed.

Silence reigned, and then was broken was a low, wheezing laugh. “Very, very good.”

Silver growled into his fur.

“It took some doing, but I awakened the instincts you were born with, Silver Moon On Snow.”

Silver’s eyes flashed wide and she gasped, dropping her hold and backing away from him, wide eyed. “Wha… what did you call me?”

 

.

 

Pride and warmth spilled through Mist. The kits’ attack had been a surprise, and half a heartbeat later, he could have shaken them off, but the queen hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of his distraction. The result was a perfect Throttle Hold.

“By the sun, and the moon. By the great ancestors above, and the blood that flows in your veins. You stand beneath the open sky and reveal your true self to all who would stand beside you. Silver, show me your claws.” He gazed at the she-cat, letting her see his pride, open for all cats to see.

Silver’s chest swelled unconsciously as the words of the Red Claw echoed in her ears, and off the walls that formed the gorge. It sounded as though cats from seasons past murmured the words with him. Trembling, she raised her right paw and flexed her claws, and then gasped.

In the training sessions, she had never glanced at her paws as the cats taught her how to swipe and snap. How to lash out and hold her form. She had always been too busy worrying about balance and making the blows just right. Her claws now gleamed in the slowly fading sunlight, red as blood and sharp as thorns.

“Silver, on this night, the dying sun gleams upon your claws. Tomorrow it will rise, and with it shall begin the birth of a new life for you.” Lightning padded forward, and this time, there was no fear in the queen’s eyes as the she cat who had taught her how to hunt so many days ago approached. Gently, she pressed her paw pads to the queen’s. “I, Lightning That Strikes At Night, stand as witness to this day. Silver, from this day forward, you will be known as Silver Moon On Snow. Welcome sister, to Clan Red Claw.”

“I…I…”

“Silver Moon! Silver Moon!” Silver gasped and turned to stare at Petalpaw, who was bouncing excitedly in place as she called the queen’s new name.

The dumbfounded Skyclan cats shook off their stupor and chanted her name together, the gorge echoing with the sound of their calls.

“I think it’s time that we all listened to what our guests have to say,” Rainstar meowed when the cheers had died. “All of it.”

To the surprise of every cat, the stoic, deadly tom known as Mist… flinched. His pupils grew until the silver of his irises nearly vanished in the dark, haunted expression on his face. “It... It’s not that easy. This is not a story any cat should ever have to hear.”

The clan leader’s eyes softened, “Please try. Whatever horrors you’ve survived until now, you must know we aren’t your enemies.” She laid her fluffy tail across his shoulder.

He looked at it; the tail of a female clan leader; a thing that wouldn’t exist if Clan Rancor had their way. Swallowing, he looked at Silver Moon. Her kits were gathered back to her belly and they were stealing curious glances at him. It was finally time to lance the wound and cleanse it. All the pain, the sacrifice, the history that these precious clan mates and clan friends needed to know.

He took a deep breath and began.


	8. Chapter 8

_This is the story told to us by our elders, who were in turn informed by a rogue who fled Clan Rancor’s original borders. We’ve pieced it together as best we could._ Mist said to the clan cats crowding around.

_We are the last survivors of Clan Red Claw. We used to be honorable, noble cats. We had our own form of the warrior code. But then we were attacked._

_They were, and are, called Clan Rancor. Rancor means ‘hate.’ Make no mistake, these aren’t noble warriors like Skyclan, nor even selfish, bullying Rogues like the cats we fought today._

_You see, a tom called Bane got it into his head that she-cats were good for nothing but raising kits. He did not see them as equals to toms, and he felt they had no value except for their one purpose. Normally, if a tom spouted such drivel, he would have been laughed out of every place he visited. But Bane was cunning. He first bent toms to his will by saying that she-cats should be protected because, without them, there was no future. Well-meaning toms who cared about their mates agreed._

_He was strong, and clever, and when he spoke, it was in such a way that seemed perfectly reasonable. Bane gained followers._

_Slowly he began taking away the responsibilities. Fighting for borders was too dangerous. It was easy to prove this claim because when fighting, it is inevitable that a she-cat would eventually be killed in the heat of battle. Then a she-cat was maimed by a badger while hunting. Hunting was too dangerous. It was better if she-cats stayed in camp and kept guard while the strong toms did their work. It wasn’t long before she-cats were ‘safest’ in the nursery, doing the only task that was “beneath” a tom; supporting queens who were giving birth._

_Bane held sway over many toms. He thought his control was complete. Then he realized that the world was larger than he thought. Bane must have heard about Clan Red Claw, a clan that lived beyond his control. A Clan where she-cats were fighters. He couldn’t risk any of ‘his’ she-cats learning that they could live free and equal. He came for us one evening with a clan of deadly toms at his back._

_What he didn’t know was that Clan Red Claw had received a prophecy; “When Red runs true, the clan will face near extinction. The greatest sacrifice will secure the future.” Back then, our own she-cats were the only members of our clan to be born with red claws like ours._

_Then my siblings and I were born; the first toms ever to be born with the red claws. Our clan leader, Golden Sun Over Hills, realized that the red had finally ‘run true’ and that the destruction of his clan was coming…and the greatest sacrifice any clan could ever make to secure the future was to ensure that four kits would escape and survive…_

 

.

 

“We have to go! Now!” Tall Pine In The Breeze had burst into the nursery, “They’re coming!”

Pine had been a fat and fluffy elder who always told the best stories to eager, round-eyed kits. Now, his fur spiked with fear and he looked fierce and unhappy. This cat was so at odds with how Mist remembered him, that he couldn’t put the two together for a long time afterward.

“Who’s coming?” little Lightning had asked.

“No time to explain. I love you. I love you four so much! Go with the elders now, and pay attention to everything they tell you.” Rainfall On Green Leaf leaned forward and licked each of them between the ears before four elders snatched up the confused kits and bolted.

Mist’s memories became jumbled around this part of the memory. Dimly, he remembered screams and shrieks and the terrible, sickening, coppery smell of blood as the walls of underbrush and woven bramble fell before the attackers. At only four moons old, he hadn’t understood why their father was laying on the ground, unmoving, next to a strange cat who also no longer moved.

“Attack!” Roared Golden Sun Over Hills, as he led a charge into the mass of already heaving bodies. “Drive them back, hold them at bay!”

“Kill them! Kill them all! Let no one but the kits survive this night!” screeched the cat would be known as Bane in the seasons to come.

And as the memory faded, the worst sound of all as the four kits were carried away from the camp was Lightning’s brokenhearted wail. “Where are we going?! Where is mamma? Mamma? _MAMMA_?!”

The last thing Mist ever saw of his mother was a streak of pure rage exploding out of the nursery with a howl that cut through the sounds of fighting. She leaped across the clearing and snapped the neck of a Rancor tom, then whipped around to blind a second with a single slash of her claws. Then… she vanished as another enraged Rancor cat dragged her down beneath the heaving, fighting cats.

He knew they killed her that night. Any she-cat who fought was killed. And Lightning… Lightning hadn’t been able to speak for an entire moon afterward; traumatized by the terrible sights and smells. During the day, she was soundless; broken. During the night, she whimpered and thrashed, sobbing gasps bursting from her muzzle as she reached out helplessly in the direction of her mother in the nightmares that plagued her.

 

.

 

Nightheart gave an inarticulate cry and sprang forward. Mist had just enough time to gasp faintly in surprise before the senior she-cat was covering him in long, tender licks. “Oh! You poor little scraps! What a horrible thing to have happened to you! You were so young. Too young! What a horrible way to lose your kithood!”

Mist’s heart squeezed, and suddenly the little kit at the back of his mind sprang forward and took control. He leaned into her warmth, squeezing his eyes shut and welcoming the tenderness that he hadn’t experienced in such a long time.

A quick peek showed that Rainstar was doing the same thing to Lightning, and she too was hungrily absorbing the maternal attention. The clan leader’s expression was one of sadness and grief for the cats lost on that night, five Snowseasons ago.

Not a single Skyclan tom looked amused or scornful of the two fierce outsiders acting like kits under the attention of the two she-cats. Instead, shock and horror were on the face of every cat. The only motion was the occasional warrior turning his head to meet the eyes of his equally horrified neighbor.

Finally, Lightning dragged herself back to the present and continued the story as the cats of Skyclan listened in wide-eyed dismay.

 

.

 

_The elders took us away and hid us in a cluster of tunnels outside of our territory. We hid for a quarter moon in its dark passageways, until our elders were certain that we had not been followed. Then we moved to a stand of trees. We were only four moons old, and yet, we were no longer kits. How could we be, given what we had seen and survived?_

_They tried. Oh, how they tried to recapture the joy of youth, the excitement of play. But that was gone from our hearts. Even the stories were things to remember because they were all we had left. I was broken then, a shattered she-kit who slept badly. I had nightmares for a very long time. I probably would have let grief drag me away if it wasn’t for Mist. He was the only one who could get me to eat or drink anything. Finally, a moon later, I was able to live again._

_They taught us then because it was the one thing that kept our attention. We learned all the techniques of Clan Red Claw; fighting and hunting. We learned the stories of our ancestors, and the code we had lived by. We learned how to disguise our scent, how to creep through our old home unseen and unsmelled. At a time when our elders should have been enjoying quiet days in the sun, they had to haul their old, aching bones up to teach youngsters to fight so their clan would survive. We were six moons old when we crept back across the newly set Rancor borders under the guidance of_ _Tall Pine In The Breeze_. _We learned the true fate of our clanmates there, beneath the open sky and shrieking crows and the terrible silent shadow of the vulture. The Resting Place. This was the fate of every cat who shared our blood and had stood up to Bane._

_We held our first vigil that night, for our clan. Our elders showed us how. Since we could not sit with the bodies, we sat in a ring deep in our territory and shared our memories of everyone we had lost, all through the night. We named them all, and wished them up to the stars with our noblest ancestors for their sacrifice._

_But we had also learned the fate of Clan Rancor. Of the horde of toms who had followed Bane, Clan Red Claw wiped out all but six during their greatest sacrifice._

_These six have raised the surviving Red Claw kits under the rule of Bane. They have been taught all of Bane’s terrible beliefs. They have been raised to kill a she-cat if she dares to stand up to a tom. And they will fly into a rage if a she-cat dares to fight._

_I realized then that if I was to be able to fight with my brothers, I had to do so without letting a Clan Rancor tom ever see me and survive. I came up with a fighting technique all on my own. And we have trained in both the old, and my new way of fighting ever since._

_The first Rancor tom we killed was shortly after we reached seven moons old. He came into our territory and killed poor old Heron Of Many Cries. He was puffing and strutting and kicking dirt over our elder as if his show of strength should intimidate us. I clawed his nose open. He snarled in rage and chased me into the tall grass. The four of us swarmed him. Then my brothers dragged his body back to the border and told the next patrol that any Rancor tom who trespassed would be shredded. They feared us ever since. Sometimes they forget, but we have always reminded them._

_It has been five Snowseasons since our first kill. The first of the she-kits raised under the rule of Bane have reached the age of being culled._

_You see, in Clan Rancor, she-cats exist to give birth, and any she-cat who reaches the age of five Snowseasons is killed; they have served their purpose and the younger she-cats are seen as more worthy of wasting prey on._

_We could not make a move until Silver fled. It was the sign our ancestors told Golden Sun, who told the elders, who then told us. We knew to watch for it; a sign that Clan Rancor was losing its control over all its cats. Bane is growing old, and the six toms are ambitious. He no longer has iron control over every cat. If our guess is correct, Bane has to prove his strength more often now, or else be seen as weak enough to be replaced._

 

.

 

Mist turned to Silver. “Clan Rancor never bothered to learn the name of Clan Red Claw before they tried to destroy us. So when they saw us prowling the fields beyond their newly established territory, they all thought we were just young Rogues who had given ourselves a name. They first thought to intimidate us. When we showed that we were too strong, their Enforcer decided to try to bribe us with ‘generosity’ to do their dirty work.”

Lightning purred gently at the two kits who drowsed at Silver’s belly. “We were sent to kill you. But that’s not what we are going to do. You are a member of our clan. We’ve come to take you home.”

There was a splutter of protest from more than one Skyclan tom but Rainstar waved her tail again for silence. “Cats of Skyclan, you’ve heard their story. Look around you. Look at your clanmates. Imagine all of them killed by an enemy, leaving four elders and four little kits. Clan Red Claw needs she-cats as much, if not more than we do. In fact…” Her eyes flashed with what could only be a hunger for battle, “I’d say that Clan Red Claw needs Skyclan toms to fight by their side too.”

Mist reared back and stared at her incredulously, “You can’t be serious. This isn’t your fight!”

She looked back at him, her eyes hooded, and then she sat up and looked him straight in the eyes. “I wish to make a deal with Clan Red Claw.” Mist blinked as the she-cat’s suddenly formal tone.

He shared a wary frown with Lightning, and then sat tall and responded just as formally. “Make your offer, Rainstar, Leader of Skyclan.”

“Clan Red Claw has been dealt a grave injustice. I would like a patrol of Skyclan toms to travel with you, to help you regain your home. I have reason to suspect that there are a lot of she-cats to rescue from Clan Rancor. If Skyclan aids you in freeing them, and in regaining your home, will you allow some of them to join Skyclan?”

“If that is what they wish, then they have Clan Red Claw’s blessing. But they must be allowed the choice.” Lightning padded forward and sat next to her brother to present a united front to Rainstar.

The clan leader bowed her head. “I would normally scold you, because we would all take this as a given. But I understand your fears and where they come from. Of course, the she-cats will have freedom of choice. And I wish to personally help you bring that choice to them.”

This time both Skyclan and Clan Red Claw spluttered their objections.

“Rainstar, _no_!” Silver Moon made her protest the loudest. “You have no idea what they’re like. They will _kill you_ , ignoring every other cat who seeks to distract them. Please, your clan has been kind to me, more kind than I could ever dream of. Don’t put yourself in that level of danger; it would break my very spirit to hear that you were killed in battle by those horrible toms. Your clan needs you!”

Rainstar turned to the queen and blinked warmly at her, “Silver Moon On Snow, today I watched you rise from a tormented queen into a warrior in your own clan. This is something no Skyclan cat has ever had or unlikely will have again, the blessing of observing. Listening to the story of your clanmates, I know I must go.”

“Why?” Mist interjected, “And what about your clan?”

“I have a very capable deputy, Whitebirch, who can make sure the day-to-day tasks get completed. He can also make sure that nests are prepared for the she-cats and queens who will be joining us, as well as getting the prey pile well stocked.”

The Skyclan leader flashed the tom a glance to let him know these were to be his orders while she was gone. Looking like he’d just swallowed a bug, the tom reluctantly bowed his head in obedience.

“Furthermore,” she turned to Mist, and her eyes softened, “After hearing your story, a lot of things I noticed about you have been explained. You aren’t as good at hiding your surprise as you think, Mist.” She purred a laugh. “When you saw a she-cat as a clan leader, you looked as though I had sprouted the head of a dog, and starting chirping like a sparrow.” She turned serious again. “I think I will be very important in helping your she-cats reach a decision, simply because of who and what I am.”

Mist opened his mouth, and then closed it again. There were no arguments he could make that would refute how powerful of a symbol Rainstar would be to the abused Queens and the eager, restless she-kits.

“So I need to go too.” Petalpaw meowed.

Rainstar flinched, as though the excitement of traveling had made her forget that she had a young cat to keep an eye on.

“I think that would be a very good idea.” Lightning meowed, and then continued as panic flashed through Rainstar’s eyes, “It will be very important for you to show all the young she-cats all that you’ve learned as an apprentice. You’ll be their own age, and you will be able to show them all what a good warrior you’re going to be.”

Petalpaw’s chest swelled. “I’ll do my best!”

Rainstar relaxed slightly, and nodded. It didn’t take a mind reader to know that she feared for her apprentice’s safety in the coming fight, and having her safely out of the fight took a lot of weight off her mind.

Lightning padded forward, “Rainstar, we must teach you how to fight… _my way_.”

Rainstar purred, “I look forward to it.”

Silver Moon slowly approached Mist, her eyes roving over him as though his fur contained all of the things she had yet to learn about her new clan. “Mist? Would you like to formally meet Clan Red Claw’s first kits?”

His whiskers twitched, “You mean when they’re not gnawing on my legs? Yes, I would like that very much.”

The two kits were curled against one another in the rapidly fading light, already deeply asleep; weary from the day’s excitement. “Mist over Stone Teeth, Lightning That Strikes At Night, I’d like you to meet my kits; Patter and Starlight.”

“They’re beautiful,” Lightning breathed, gazing down at the kits with hungry eyes, “Just think Mist… we’re going to be fighting for their future. A future…” she lost the words for a heartbeat, then swallowed and growled darkly, “a future where they will grow proud and strong. A future where kits will not lose their mother to Bane.”

Mist leaned against Lightning, “A future where they will not suffer as we have… Oh Lightning, I’ve wished that you could have been spared the sights of that night. I... I saw our mother… and I know you saw…”

Lightning flicked the tip of her tail across his mouth to silence him. “Despite the nightmares. Despite knowing what happened, I am glad of those memories. I will always remember how our mother distracted those toms from seeing our escape. She fought to spare our lives. I never want that taken away from me, no matter how much pain I’ve felt. I remember it, and I would do the same for my own kits. It hurts to remember her death, but it makes me proud too.”

Silver Moon gazed at the siblings, sorrow welling up and pouring out of her eyes as she listened. “You’ve got so much weight on your shoulders; I know it would have broken other cats.”

“The weight is easing,” Mist murmured. “It won’t be long before the weight is gone and our clan’s greatest sacrifice will finally show results.”

“It already has. Remember that!” Silver Moon meowed fiercely. “Look at how you’ve grown! Any mother would be proud to know that her children were going to bring back an entire clan from the brink.”

Rainstar softly cleared her throat behind them. “I’m sorry to break this up, since I know you three have a lot to catch up on. But the moon is rising, and everyone, including you three, need sleep. Tomorrow, the patrol will leave, and I want you to teach me along the way, so that I can fight effectively against Clan Rancor.”

Mist swallowed. It had taken a heavily laden queen two days to travel this far. While it would probably only take them a day and a half, at most, to get to Red Claw territory, he knew that Rainstar had a lot to learn in a very short time. The toms would be fine; they could fight face to face. Rainstar would have to change her technique entirely in order to join the battle.

Mist and Lightning gently carried the kits back to the nursery for one last night, and then joined the warriors in their den for a good night’s sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The three she-cats broke apart as they neared the border, gliding smoothly through the grass as they closed in on it. Rain had thought of this tactic and had taught the other two this three-pronged approach. Any enemy singled out would think he only faced one she-cat rather than three. Although Rancor toms would attack blindly and straight on, strangers would be more likely to fight head-on with biting and clawing. In those cases, having two others for support was a good plan.

A Rancor patrol was passing by, marking the scent line and taking great care to deliberately ignore the open expanse of grass that marked Red Claw territory. Apparently, the death of Scratchface had shaken them up rather badly and they were trying very hard not to acknowledge yet another defeat at the claws of so few cats. Worse, the death of one of Bane’s inner circle was a sign that Clan Rancor’s weakening. Things were going to be very touchy for some time to come.

Rain wrinkled her nose as they passed and quickly left a scent mark at the border, careful to keep hidden by the grass. Silently, they stalked the Rancor patrol; keeping back and out of sight as they laid their own scent line.

“Ugh, I swear, this border reeks more every day. It’s like they’re getting smellier with every good Rancor cat they slay.” Growled a Rancor tom known as Bonespur, turning back to stare back along the border with a sour expression.

The three queens froze in position, their tails keeping their fur waving and rippling like the grass.

“Overconfidence.” Came the retort from Blizzardfang. “I still say we ambush them when they come to use the stream. But noooo. Stupid Bane and his stupid orders. It’s like he lives in terror of four Rogues, even with the whole of Clan Rancor behind him.”

“Bane will not be a problem for much longer. Either Badgerheart will get sick of his mewling she-cat heart, or someone else will.” Blackfog muttered.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” snarled Bonespur, a bit desperately. “Have you already forgotten Stingclaw? No more talk against Bane or his rules. Or do you want to be an Example too?”

Blackfog and Blizzardfang shrank within their pelts and hurried on.

Slowly, wordlessly, Rain and Reed turned to look at Streak, deep sorrow on their faces.

The she-cat stared sightlessly after the three toms, agony etched on her face. “My kit… my first kit… He was only four seasons old… How could Bane…”

Otter flowed out of the shadows. “You all did very well. I’m proud of you for staying hidden, even through such terrible news. You all passed like a bird flying through the open sky.” He laid his tail across Streak’s back. “Rain, Reed, please go back to camp alone. I think Streak and I have something very important to do.”

The two she-cats pressed against Streak from either side, wordlessly offering support and shared grief for Streak’s son before slipping off into the tall grass and disappearing from view.

“You don’t have to do this you know,” Otter meowed, “But if you must, we will go right away.”

Streak swallowed thickly. “I have to. I have to know. Bane hasn’t made an Example in seasons. If he’s truly doing this, we may need to get all of the queens and kits out right away. No one is safe in that camp.”

“We cannot rush in. We’ll have to come back and plan. But if he did make an Example of your son, we’ll make Bane pay; I swear this to you as a Red Claw.”

Streak’s mouth tightened and she nodded curtly. The two rubbed themselves in the sticky sap until they were covered from head to paws.

Wordlessly they slipped across the border. Otter took a different path to the Resting Place than Ghost had: slipping into the stream and paddling along with the current. Fortunately, the sap was thicker and stickier than water, and could not be washed off by a simple spate of swimming. Streak followed his lead as if she had been born half fish, though, by the time they found the Resting Place, the sun was setting.

Creeping between rocks until they were right next to the edge, Otter peered over first. His expression said everything when he slipped back from the edge and looked at Streak with grief.

Taking a deep breath, she peered over the edge as well.

Finding the stormy gray fur like her own was easy enough. But there was nothing easy in that sad body that had tumbled far down into the pit. Even from far above, she could see that he was covered in wounds. Bane had indeed made an Example of him. It was the punishment given to those who broke Rancor law; for females who left and were caught, and for those who objected to Bane’s orders within his hearing.

If Silver had been caught instead of escaping half a moon ago, this would have been her fate for daring to defy a tom. If the she-cats who were learning to be Red Claws were discovered, Bane would order each of them to be made into an Example. And, Otter knew, Quickclaw would suffer the same fate as poor Stingclaw if any Rancor tom caught him helping the older she-cats to escape. They had already saved his life by killing Scratchface. If one cat could catch Quickclaw in the act, others most certainly could. They would have to make a very bold and decisive move and get him to come with them.

“We need to get them out.” Streak breathed into Otter’s ear, “We must. We cannot wait the full moon of time you promised your siblings. We have to take every last queen and kit and flee! Surely there’s a place for us far away from this miserable place! Even if Mist and Lightning haven’t found it yet, we cannot wait much longer if this is starting up again!”

Otter looked wretched; “We’ll try to plan, but none of the queens will be capable of a long trek. We have to plan to fight Clan Rancor off… all of them… in Red Claw territory. Come on. We have to get back.”

As the two slipped back into Redclaw territory, an unfamiliar scent hit both of them and they froze in horror. Sharing a quick glance, they sprinted through the long grass to the border adjacent to Clan Rancor’s shared border. The source of the smell was quite obvious as the two skidded to a stop and stared at the huge group of cats lounging by the border. It looked like an attack force, for all that they were resting.

Each cat was muscular and scarred, speaking of moons of fighting behind them. One gaped his jaws in a wide, sleepy yawn: baring sharp, white fangs in the afternoon sunlight. They were all milling about slowly, as though they had just arrived. Each cat sought out a comfortable spot and lay down to rest just outside the border.

“We need to get back,” Otter breathed into Streak’s ear, “Ghost can get right in close and figure out their plans. The two of us can’t do anything against them, and they’re not invading yet. Come on. We need to warn the other she-cats too. I pray to the skies above us that we’re ready for whatever they plan to throw at us.”

The pair turned away and raced through the long grass without looking back. If they had, they would have seen Mist padding through the ranks and settling himself in a spot closest to the border, then turning his back to it. His long tail trailed out behind him, falling just short of crossing the border. He murmured one of the Skyclan toms, “Look! I’m fishing for Red Claws!” The joke sparked a few chuckles as he twitched his tail like a fat worm as though to entice a fish to explore. Then he bathed a paw with slow, leisurely strokes.

Someone would check the border sooner or later. It was best that he be the one to meet the patrol. None of the she-cats his brothers were rescuing would have met him before. They wouldn’t recognize him, and so he would have to keep his senses alert.

 

.

 

_Poor young Stingclaw_ … Quickclaw thought sadly. The poor tom had made the mistake of rolling his eyes and muttering how silly it was to be obeying an old tom that was afraid of four measly Rogues, and who would have been culled twice now if he had been a female.

Had it been a stupid thing to say? Yes. But even Badgerheart would have done little more than given him a sharp cuff and told him to mind his tongue. In time, he would have learned that the Red Claws were to be treated with caution, if not respect.

Bane, a massive gray marbled tom, was far less forgiving. And so the young cat was made an Example of. The kits had shivered at the feet of the Queens, who were no better. The toms had flinched at every blow, but even they knew better than to look away during the brutal ritual. Their leader was making a point to every cat, so that none would dare raise their voice against him.

Badgerheart, as the clan’s Enforcer, had been the first to obey Bane’s Command without hesitation. He leaped on the young tom and savagely began to fight him. Fur and blood had flown until Stingclaw had been defeated, wounded and panting. Then the Enforcer had backed away and the second tom in Bane’s ring had leaped upon the tired and injured tom. All of Bane’s Inner Circle, fresh and unmarked, had taken turns beating up on the weakening tom; each tearing him with their claws and teeth. By the time the bloody body had collapsed from Bane’s final blow, not even the kits had dared to peep and attract their leader’s attention.

“Let it be known,” Bane’s voice had rumbled through the ranks harshly, “that I am the leader here. Let no cat forget the price of disobeying Rancor Law.” He was silent a moment, waiting for any cat to make a sound. Wisely, no one did. “Take that crowfood to the Resting place,” he pointed at Stingclaw’s cooling body, “and throw it in so it tumbles to the bottom. Those that aren’t carrying the body will clean up the bloody mud. If the blood starts to smell up the camp come sunrise, I’ll know why.”

The large tom gave the clan a look that chilled the blood of every cat; snakes looked at birds with more kindness. Then he spun around and stalked away, gliding through the grass that carpeted the short path to his den.

There was a heartbeat of silence and then Quickclaw broke the atmosphere of frozen terror to herd the queens and kits back to the nursery. Suddenly every other cat was in motion; finding a reason to be busy one way or another. Quickclaw’s manner was much more subdued than the usual brisk demands a Rancor tom usually made of the she-cats. He even hustled them with touches of his tail rather than smacks of his paws. Tonight, everyone had had more than enough of violence.

Badgerheart started organizing cats on cleanup duty. He spared Quickclaw only a glance, and then nodded when he saw that Quickclaw was doing something important already. “Make sure they’re all in the nursery, and that they stay there.”

Quickclaw let out a relieved breath. It was, all things considered, a light duty to watch the nursery.

The grass suddenly rustled and Bane’s head popped back into the open. Activity stumbled a bit, and then hurriedly continued. The big tom ignored everyone else, his hard blue eyes settling on Quickclaw. “Once you get the females situated, join me. They will be fine without a guard. We need to talk.”

Quickclaw’s blood ran cold, but he nodded. He wanted to stall. He wanted to tuck each kit next to its mother, toms and she-kits alike, rather than join his leader in his isolated den. Nobody, however, stalled on anything when Bane gave a direct order. As soon as the last queen’s tail slid in, he turned and padded slowly and heavily into his leader’s den.

It was cool here, and the lighting was comfortable. A fat squirrel lay in a pool of light near Bane’s nest, but was ignored for the time being by the deadly leader. “I’ve been watching you, Quickclaw.”

Quickclaw’s heart seized.

“You’re ambitious.” Bane continued, ignoring the spike of fear scent. Fortunately fear was normal in the terrible leader’s presence, especially when he started paying particular attention to any cat. “You also have a thirst to prove yourself… a thirst that put you in the sunbeam for being Challenged by Scratchface himself.” There was a heartbeat of silence, and then Bane meowed, “You didn’t know that, did you?”

“I… I suspected Scratchface wasn’t happy…”

“Wasn’t happy?” Bane seemed to think Quickclaw had said something funny, “He was outraged! You took over his favorite duty to the clan by culling all of those queens.”

A knot of fear loosened in Quickclaw’s stomach. If this was what Bane wanted to talk about then it would be easier than he had feared. He had known it would come up eventually, and had carefully prepared his defenses. “I wasn’t trying to usurp him, Bane. I was trying to prove my loyalty.” Quickclaw swore.

“Ah yes. Your loyalty. That was smart of you. You do, after all, share blood with that traitorous cat, Silver. She’s your sister after all. Her betrayal to Rancor law did indeed put you in a rather precarious position, you know.”

Quickclaw shuddered, but went on gamely, “I also share blood with Badgerheart, and he’s as loyal to Rancor law as any tom could ask for.”

Bane’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a pleased look in his gaze. “Yes. Badgerheart. A good reliable tom, that one. One of the best Enforcers I’ve had in a long time…” Bane let the silence drag to the point where it became uncomfortable, then he shook his fur out and focused on Quickclaw again. “Eat,” Bane invited with a careless flick of his tail at the fresh kill.

Quickclaw blinked in surprise, and then gratefully sank his teeth into the juicy squirrel. Prey was never wasted on those about to die. If Bane was sharing prey, then his unpredictable temper had taken another shift to a much more positive light.

“As I said, I’ve been watching you. You do your duties well, even eagerly. You have initiative in taking the queens out right away rather than waiting for the order to be given. You are efficient. Scratchface was all of those things. I expect you to fill his pawprints from now on.”

The tom blinked in surprise. “You’re…?”

“Yes.” Bane paced slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “I can’t really blame you simply because you share blood with that traitorous queen. You’re a tom, and far less likely to be weak, cowardly or treacherous like a she-cat. You won’t betray me.”

The squirrel meat in Quickclaw’s stomach suddenly turned to stone.

“You’ve proven yourself loyal by culling other queens, to make up for failing to cull Silver. Not that I blame you for that either… have you heard back from the Red Claws?” Bane changed the subject abruptly.

“Er… no. Not yet. They said they would come for their reward after the deed was done, and not a day before.” Quickclaw prayed that the Red Claws would claim the deed was done soon; half a moon was far too long for a ‘hunt’ for a female who supposedly couldn’t hunt for herself or run far or fast.

Bane’s eyes glittered with something dark and amused, his thoughts apparently running in the same direction as Quickclaw’s. “I’m not in any particular hurry, mind. They are hunting the queen. I’m quite sure they’re finding plenty of things to do to amuse themselves with her before they cull her. The kits would be valuable hostages to keep her pliant to their demands for… fun.”

Quickclaw felt sick at the implications in Bane’s tone and he shut down his thoughts as hard as he could. He would NOT think of something so horrible. “So…uh…”

“I am getting distracted, please forgive me Quickclaw.” There was no actual apology in Bane’s tone. “To the point. Scratchface’s death has left a hole that needs to be filled. Since you have proven yourself so well, and since the youngsters are obviously getting mouthy with that hole being left unfilled while I grieve…”

_Right. Grieve._ Quickclaw kept the snide thoughts off his face.

“…I am appointing you to be my Executioner in Scratchface’s place. Badgerheart will handle the standard punishments and enforce the law, but you…” Bane’s tail caressed Quickclaw’s face in a parody of fatherly pride and comfort, “…you will handle all the culling that needs to be done. The culling time is nearly done. When the old, worthless females have been weeded out, I want to hear your plans for exterminating the Red Claws. If that traitorous Stingclaw had anything worthwhile to say, then it was true enough that we’ve put up with those Red Claws long enough. Do your duty, and then survey the lay of the land. Start planning how we’ll strike at those rogues.”

Taking that as the dismissal that it was, Quickclaw took the remains of the squirrel to the nursery and then announced his new position to the clan.

He felt the gazes of the other five toms sear his pelt, and of the other five, only his brother’s gaze was even remotely friendly. He was a usurper in their eyes; Scratchface had proven himself to be deadly and efficient in his job. Quickclaw was just a young upstart stuffed into his position.

He himself had mixed feelings. On one paw, this gave him free rein to take the she-cats to Ghost and no one would question him. On the other, he was now responsible for making a plan for a deadly war with cats that had already proven many times over that Clan Rancor would suffer dearly for going against them.

Quickclaw was finding it harder to regret his betrayal of Rancor Law with each passing day. As each day passed, he realized that Rancor Ancestors weren’t saying a word to Bane; a revelation that puzzled him, but also left him weak with relief.

Clan Rancor has fast-becoming a terrible place to be, even for a tom. Time was running out. He needed to warn Ghost tomorrow, when he took Pool to the appointed place. If all of the queens and kits vanished, maybe Quickclaw could disappear in the confusion. It wouldn’t be so bad to be a Rogue, compared to what Bane would do if he discovered that Quickclaw had been part of the plan.


	10. Chapter 10

“Rainstar… I have a request that may seem unusual, but I think it’s very important for you to hear my reasons.” Mist said to Rainstar before they left.

“Go on.” Rainstar murmured.

“I would like Highleap and Eaglepaw to come with us.”

Rainstar’s eyes narrowed. “Eaglepaw is very nearly a warrior, I agree… But I am not sure what bringing such a brash and eager fighter along would do us any good.”

“I… I think it would do him a world of good. He is quick to anger. Eager to fight. Far too willing to be hostile toward other cats. I think he needs to see where such an attitude will get him. It’s one thing to be told to stop being so aggressive. It’s another to see for himself how ugly it can make a cat.”

Rainstar was silent for a long moment, and then bowed her head with a sigh, “I almost wish I could prove you wrong, Mist, but you are right. And you are more in a position to judge than I am about the ugliness of a Rancor attitude.”

“You’re starting to sound like a Red Claw already,” he teased gently.

“Starclan forbid! No offense but I like the gorge and my clan just fine. Very well. Lightning wants to give me a quick lesson before we go. Go ahead and tell Highleap that I’m giving him permission to bring his apprentice along.”

Rainstar and Silver Moon went off for a brief training session before they left, and again at the end of the first day; teaching them how to be unseen amid the waving blades of grass, how to keep their footing on the slippery plants, and how to execute the Throttle Hold.

“I don’t plan to have you among the fighters,” Mist told Silver Moon. “For one thing, you are far too new at any kind of battle skills. For another, all the queens will remember you. I want you to help us get the queens out of the Rancor camp, and get them to trust the toms who will help to carry the kits. I also will be counting on you to guard them. We will do our best to keep the fighting away, but there’s always a danger. Otter will have tunnels where they can flee to safety, but I pray it doesn’t come to that. We sacrificed everything once. Let’s not do it again.”

 

.

 

By the time they reached Red Claw’s border, everyone was relieved to lay down and rest, under strict orders to stay out of the tall grass that waved enticingly so close by.

“They’ll know we’re here soon enough,” Lighting meowed. “They should already have several queens being trained, and only Otter and Ghost will recognize Mist and I. It’s better to let them come to us and to introduce ourselves than go prancing off and risk getting ambushed.”

Mist wove his way through the Skyclan cats to the border and sat down, stretching his tail toward the long grass. If any of the she-cats wanted to challenge him, it was better for him to be the bait, since he knew the tactic as well as Lightning did. The wait wasn’t very long.

“This is Red Claw territory strangers, and you are not welcome here!”

A she cat had thrust her muzzle through the grass a whisker length from Mist’s tail.

Mist blinked benignly back at her, “Oh I know very well where we are. I assure you, we’re more than welcome.”

“That’s what you think! Leave or else!”

Mist’s whiskers wiggled, “Or else what, pretty one?” Mist whipped around and leaped at her, though his claws were sheathed.

With a hiss, she ducked his blow and vanished into the grass, racing away from him.

Mist heard Quailfur call out his name as he pursued her into the grass. Warmth flashed through him that the kind warrior was concerned for his safety, but he knew exactly how to handle this tactic.

He counted his steps as he swept into the grass, and then skidded to a stop. Half a heartbeat later the she-cat exploded out where he should have been, and gasped in shock that he wasn’t there.

He leaped, pinning her down by the shoulders, and was pleasantly surprised when her tail lashed up and struck him across the eyes. It was one of Ghost’s favored moves. A tail couldn’t cause any real damage, but fur in the eyes could blind an enemy for a precious second, and the unexpected blow to the face tended to startle an enemy into letting go.

“Very good,” he grunted, rewarding her clever move by leaping back, “My brother has taught you well.”

“Yes he has and I… your... brother? Wait, are you... Mist?” The she-cat blinked at him, ferocity forgotten.

He put his whiskers forward warmly, “I am. And _you_ are a wonderful fighter!” As the she cat lifted her chin proudly, Mist turned and called out, “Ghost you old stalker, what’s the count?”

“Scratchface is gone. Evening Of Raging Wind here used the Lure Strike on him.”

Mist didn’t miss the way Evening’s face fell. “It…wasn’t… I can’t claim to be proud of that.”

Mist blinked at her warmly, “Oh Evening, being proud of killing cats is a horrible thing. I would be worried for you if you were. But I am proud of you for defending your clan to the best of your abilities.”

“Mist? Are you all right?” Rainstar called.

Ghost’s eyes widened at the sound of the she-cat’s voice and he stared at Mist with a hundred questions in his eyes.

“Yes I am!” he called back, and gestured with his tail for the two cats to follow him, “Ghost of a Chance, Evening of the Raging Wind, I would like to introduce to you Clan Red Claw’s allies. This is Rainstar, leader of Skyclan. They want to help us take on Clan Rancor.”

Ghost stared at Rainstar with a hungry hope in his eyes, and then turned to his brother. “That sounds like quite a story. You must tell me how you found a clan with a she-cat leader! Bane is going to have fits! Come, all of you. Clan Red Claw’s camp awaits.”

 

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Mist and Lightning joined Ghost and Otter in their favorite tree to share gossip and to catch up on one another’s events. Skyclan eagerly intermingled with the Red Claw she-cats. The defensive Red Claw she-cats were taken off guard by the toms who introduced themselves warmly, like equals.

When the four came down, it was agreed that the Skyclan cats would begin training in the long grass the very next day.

Quailfur was the first to present himself to Mist for training against Rancor moves, and before too many heartbeats had passed, Kestrelwing, Cedarfoot, Coldwind, Juniperbranch, Thistlepath, Highleap and Eaglepaw were also listening to the Red Claw’s instructions.

“One of the most important things to learn is how to fight in long grass.” Mist warned, “It can be slippery, when it’s not blocking your vision entirely. Spread your toes wide and dig your claws in. Fold your ears back so they don’t stand above your head. Then lift your head just over the grass so that your eyes can track movement through the blades. Make sure your head makes the smallest profile possible.”

Eaglepaw snorted and looked bored.

“Eaglepaw, thank you for volunteering,” Mist interjected, before Highleap could have a sharp word with the apprentice. “Since you like fighting, I’ll let you be a Rancor tom coming into the grass to fight me. See if you can catch me creeping up on you.”

The Skyclan cats and Red Claw she-cats watched silently as Mist faded into the grass. Eaglepaw looked around warily, ears perked for any sound. The wind blew steadily over the wide open space, causing not only a soft whistling sound, but also made every blade of grass rustle, until the whole world seemed full of it. It practically drowned out any sounds of approach. Even most of the insects couldn’t be heard until they buzzed straight past Eaglepaw’s head.

He struggled to sort through them, frowning in puzzlement. He was so busy trying to hear that when Mist flashed out of the grass from behind, he was caught entirely by surprise. Mist hit him, tumbled him over, landed a few choice mock blows and was away again into the tall grass before the apprentice could recover.

“Can anyone tell me what Eaglepaw’s mistake was?” Mist called from Eaglepaw’s right, still invisible to the eye.

“He forgot to lower his ears, because he was so busy trying to listen.” Quailfur offered.

“Very good. Out in the grass, visibility is poor, and hearing is terrible. Never rely on sound. That’s why you peer over the very tops and watch for movement without giving your position away. Eaglepaw, let’s try again.”

The scowling apprentice lay his ears back with a petulant expression and peered cautiously over the grass.

Mist again circled, but was pleased to see that this time, Eaglepaw was tracking him; turning his body to face the direction that Mist was approaching from. This time when Mist flashed out of the grass, he was met head on by the snarling apprentice, who got his own choice mock blows in as the pair met and then broke apart.

“Excellent!” Mist praised him. “You’ve learned a new fighting skill!”

The apprentice looked surprised, and then thoughtful.

“Rancor territory does have its grass as much as its underbrush.” Mist explained, “We had to learn how to counter stealth attacks. I want you all to practice; both in how to watch for movement, and how to slip through with as little grass wiggling as possible. Here’s a hint: try stepping around clumps instead of pushing through them. There are very few straight lines in the grass.” Mist paired with Kestrelwing as the odd cat out as the others took turns.

Ghost left later in the day to retrieve the she-cat Pool. “I’m thinking Pool of Where Sleek Fish Lurk,” he admitted to the others, and they heartily agreed that it was a good name.

But when he returned, Ghost’s expression was somber. After Pool received her new name, bestowed by Mist, Ghost called a meeting of all cats, Skyclan and Red Claw alike. He flashed Rainstar an apologetic glance at having taken command of her cats, but she gestured for him to continue, her eyes worried.

“Skyclan and Red Claw warriors, I have serious news. We have a cat by the name of Quickclaw helping us bring she-cats safely out of Rancor territory.”

“Quickclaw?” Silver Moon caught the name, her expression flitting between multiple emotions.

Ghost nodded to her kindly, “He’s taken Scatchface’s place. This makes it easier for him to smuggle she-cats out. But he brought me a solemn warning; Bane has decided that his ranks have grown enough to lead an attack against the four Red Claws he thinks are here. He wants to wipe us out so that his slipping hold over the clan grows secure again.”

There were several frightened gasps.

“I haven’t told Quickclaw anything other than that we will move soon, and to keep playing his part. It will be safer for him to have no knowledge of what is going to happen. He can slip away during the battle; let him pass through the tall grass alive. We have a lot of planning to do. We have to rescue the queens and kits if we want the battle to be on our terms and we need make our first move quickly; tomorrow we will practice the plan. Then we will make our first move before dawn of the next day.”

The Skyclan cats shifted worriedly. They only had a day of training under their pelts in this strange territory, and already they were going to be preparing for the fight of their lives.

“I’m sorry,” Ghost looked at them with an honest apology in his eyes. “If we had more time, I would gladly give it to you. We’re going to have to step up the training, and just do the best we can.”

 

.

 

The next morning, Ghost called everyone together again as soon as they had eaten. “Rainstar, come with me please. Can you climb? I want to show you where we’ve always expected our final battle to be, and how we planned for it to go. Anything more you can think of for your own warriors will be an asset.”

Rainstar nodded and padded off with him.

Otter called for cats willing to use ambush points and got Cedarfoot and Coldwind from Skyclan as well as Streak, and a somewhat nervous Pool.

“Don’t worry,” Otter meowed, “I can show you a move that is very easy to learn, and will restrain even the toughest Rancor cat long enough to put an end to him. It works equally underground and in the water.”

Mist called Quailfur, Kestrelwing, Juniperbranch, Thistlepath, Highleap and Eaglepaw for more practice in the long grass.”

“We will need she-cats to do the Lure Strike in the heat of battle. Evening, Reed, and Rain, you will work together with Rainstar to draw toms from the fringes of battle to aid the Skyclan warriors.” Lightning meowed.

“You’re very efficient,” Quailfur murmured as the cats broke up into groups, leaving Skyclan in silent awe at how polished the four were in sorting the cats, “You really have been planning this for a long time.”

Lightning’s eyes were distant and very sad. “Since the day we came to this place, we have been planning, and re-planning. The only thing we didn’t count on was how much help we would have. We always expected that we would do it alone, with only half-trained she-cats to defend ourselves with.”

Quailfur pressed his cheek to hers, “But you do have help, and you _can_ count on us. We will win back your home, and your futures too.” Quailfur was silent for a heartbeat and then meowed, almost too soft to hear, “Our futures.”

Lightning’s eyes widened and then she pressed her whole body against him, drinking in his scent, “When all this is over, know that we would welcome you. I will welcome you too, if a future with Clan Red Claw is really what you want.”

“More than anything. Now, get those purring she-cats busy,” his eyes flicked to the three, who had watched their exchange with twitching whiskers.

Lightning purred a soft laugh of her own and drew them off to the open stretch of field. She knew Ghost and Rainstar would be watching from above as she showed them, and the she-cats, what their part in the battle was going to be.

Quailfur raced after Mist, and was relieved to see the tom showed no irritation at his delay with Lightning. “Treat her with love,” was his only murmured aside, and then they were off.


	11. Chapter 11

“It’s time to tell you about Bane and the six,” Ghost told them the evening before the battle. “Bane is an enormous gray marbled tom. We have never seen a cat so large. He looms over every cat, and a single blow from him can mean instant death. Don’t let him hit you. The first of the Inner Circle is Flashfreeze; blue-gray tom with pale green eyes. He handles the hunts, which means he’s an expert at stalking, tracking and killing swiftly with a single bite. Every young Rancor cat learns from him and he orders patrols to go find prey in the places he dictates. Watch for any cover he may make use of; of all of the six, he’s the one best suited for using cover to his advantage in a fight.”

“Second,” Mist meowed, “is Bonebreak. He’s fawn with a broken tail and hard, fawn colored eyes. It should be no surprise that he teaches strength fighting. In case you’re wondering, Bane gave him that broken tail, and is the only cat Bonebreak will take orders from. Don’t let him land a blow. You’ll regret it. Be quick, and don’t grapple with him. Strike fast and get out of reach quickly.”

“Third is Weaseltooth; a red tabby with hazel eyes.” Lightning’s lip curled, “He’s the polar opposite of Bonebreak, a quick fighter who uses draining wounds. He invented making Examples of those who break Rancor Law. He goes for the eyes, or hits low. His favorite tactic is wound his victims in dozens of places so that blood loss weakens them, then will blind them, and finally go for the throat or belly. He’s very quick, but not very strong. If you can grapple with him, you can get the advantage.”

“Fourth is Flashbite, a black tom with yellow eyes.” Otter meowed solemnly, “His name hints that he’s quick but in reality, he looks like a fat, lazy kittypet. His face always carried an expression of grumpy irritation every time he’s on the move. That’s his trick. Cats underestimate him because he looks dull brained and stupid. He saves his speed for the perfect striking moment. Then he bites and won’t let go. Go for his face or kick him hard in the belly if he gets a hold of you.”

“Finally, there’s Badgerheart. If Clan Rancor has a deputy, Badgerheart is it. He’s silvery gray with black streaks under his blue eyes, and he’s the clan’s Enforcer. He metes out punishments, decides if a cat lives or dies, and takes a particular pleasure in hurting those smaller and weaker than he is if he is permitted to do so.” Silver Moon broke in, her eyes sad, “He’s my brother, but don’t let that stop you. He won’t hesitate.”

There was a heartbeat of silence and then Rainstar meowed, “Silver Moon, tell us about your other brother, Quickclaw. If we see him, we want to know not to try to kill him.”

Silver Moon’s mouth twisted into a frown, “He saved my life by pretending that I wasn’t in the tunnels anymore. He looks so very much like me, and his eyes are green, but his fur is a dark silver instead of light like mine. Let him come into the grass, if he heads for it. Don’t use the Lure Strike. I’ll face him and give him the chance to walk away from Clan Rancor.”

Mist shook his head worriedly. He didn’t like the idea of Silver Moon fighting, especially not when she had so little experience and kits to think of. He had already told her that he didn’t want her near the fighting… But she would not thank him for his concern. Every she-cat they had rescued had battered spirits, and now that they had the right to fight, they would not appreciate being told that they could not, or should not. He would have to handle what he was going to say next very, very carefully.

“Silver Moon, if Quickclaw proves himself, I want you to take him away from the battle and bring him to the she-cats, queens and kits. And I would like you to stay with them.” Mist braced himself for the battle he knew was coming.

Silver Moon turned to look at him, the fur on her shoulders rising. “Mist, I am fully capable of fighting. I will not be cooped up in the nursery. Not anymore, and not ever again.” Her voice was a furious, angry growl.

“You are trained to fight, and you are a she-cat,” Mist pressed her before she could sharpen her claws on his pelt, “The queens will listen to you, and the young she-cats will adore the sight of a strong female warrior. Think about it; you could show them battle moves, and keep your brother safe. You know what Bane will do if he catches Quickclaw. Quickclaw can help you and Lightning protect them.”

“Excuse me?” Mist’s stomach dropped at Lightning’s icy tone, “ _Who_ is going to stay far away from the battle? Tell me, Mist. I dare you to try to order me to stay at camp during the final battle.”

No other cat, tom or she-cat, had the power to make Mist quiver inside the way his sister’s cold fury could.

“Lightning,” Ghost interjected, “Mist is right.”

The she-cat turned her hard blue gaze on Ghost, “I half understand why Mist is trying to protect me, Ghost. I do not agree, but I understand. You do not have that luxury.”

Ghost flinched at her expression but did not back down, “I am not trying to coddle you, sister. I know this like I know my own name and the name of our mother. You _must_ be with the queens. Please.”

It was the ‘please’ that made Lightning stop. She narrowed her eyes fractionally, “You know it, do you? Will you swear it? Swear on the blood that lives on within us? Swear it on our Prophesy, our Promise these five Snowseasons, that my being away from the battle we have trained for our entire lives is more important than anything else I could do?”

Ghost swallowed but bowed his head and raised his paw before her. “I swear it. I swear on our blood, our Prophesy and our Promise that your being at camp is absolutely vital. I don’t know why, only that it is.”

Lightning went as still as stone for a few heartbeats, then she pressed her paw to his and interlocked claws with him. “Then I will stay.”

Mist let out his breath in a whoosh. Of the four siblings, Lightning was the deadliest. She had trained herself to be completely lethal to Clan Rancor. But more than that, she had four seasons of a clean record against the other three. None of her brothers could defeat her. If she couldn’t be persuaded, none of them could have made her keep out of the fight.

“Tomorrow, it all ends, one way or another.” Otter meowed into the silence. His expression was both relieved and afraid. “This is it. If this fails, no more can be done for Clan Red Claw. We are the backup plan. Beyond this, it’s succeed or fail.”

“Clan Rancor shall fall.” Ghost meowed determinedly, holding up his paw for the final time.

“Clan Rancor shall fall,” the other three intoned, and they interlocked their claws as Skyclan and the Red Claw she-cats murmured their own promise to the stars.

 

.

 

The morning of the battle began before the sun had risen; the air still and cool, with pale gray clouds rolling over the sky. The clouds held no rain, serving only to make the dim light of the new day even darker. Leaving Patter and Starlight safely in camp with Streak, Silver Moon joined Ghost and the Skyclan warriors in their raid on Rancor’s Nursery.

“This is how we escaped with the elders,” Ghost whispered as they slid across the border, every cat smeared thickly with pine sap, “We have plenty of cover, and a back way into the nursery that Clan Rancor never found.”

The sky was starting to lighten as Silver Moon slipped into the narrow break, whispering to the startled she-cats, queens, and nearly grown kits inside.

“…Bane is losing his mind. I know he made an Example, after seasons of not making one.” They soon heard her whispering, “We have to get you out, and get you all somewhere safe. You can learn to hunt and fight. You can live to watch your kits grow into fine warriors; both toms and she-cats. No more culling.”

“This is treason,” a tom kit hissed, but quietly, “Bane will have us all killed anyway if we go with you. Why should we do what some old queen says, when Rancor Law says she should be dead?”

“What if I told you that your mother could see what a fine warrior you will become?” Silver Moon asked.

Silence.

“Would you like to stand proud and tall with your warrior name, and see your mother among the cats congratulating you? What if, instead of watching silently from the Skies Above, she could look you in the eyes and tell you herself how proud she is of you? Would you like that?”

There was a long silence, and they could imagine the kit glancing back and forth from his mother to Silver Moon thoughtfully. Then, even more softly, “Yeah, I would like that.”

“Please, come with me,” Silver Moon urged, “I have friends who can help us get there. Please trust them. They may be toms, but they’re as good as any she-cat.”

Whiskers twitched, but amusement was quelled as the first queen padded out carefully, leading her two kits, who stared at the strangers in silent amazement.

One by one, the remaining queens, kits and young she-cats who didn’t have kits, paired up and began the quick, quiet retreat. Ghost took up the rear, using his wispy, sap filled fur to disguise their trail. He moved slowly, snatching up leaves from pungent plants and shredding them thoroughly to make the smell of the nearby plants stronger.

“They won’t check on the nursery until they realize that no one has come out to eat. By then the morning patrol will have already left.” Ghost told them as they slid into the Red Claw camp. He glanced at the uncertain group of females and kits milling about in the strange place, looking for a nursery where they thought they should belong, and flicked his tail at Rainstar, his eyes cutting meaningfully at them.

She nodded, putting her whiskers forward.

“Rainstar, leader of Skyclan,” he meowed clearly. Everyone froze and stared as the female leader padded forward in response to his summons, “It’s time for the second phase. Lead your toms into battle, and remember the plan.”

“A female clan leader?” one of the new she-cats breathed in awe.

Rainstar turned to address her warriors, pretending not to notice the way the bewildered females watched her every move.

“Cats of Skyclan, gather around for a meeting. Today we take back Clan Red Claw’s home, and make right what has gone horribly wrong. Skyclan, remember your training. I know it may feel strange to be here, but I have faith in all of you. Know that I am proud of each of you for your bravery and for your strength.”

Quailfur bowed his head, “It is an honor to fight at your side Rainstar.”

The she-cats mouths dropped open as each tom bowed his head in deep respect for the female clan leader.

“It is time. Mist, you’re with me. Everyone, you know your part in the plan. Let’s go!” With Skyclan cats following eagerly, they raced out of the camp to the wide open field.

Spying the morning patrol just coming into view, Mist nodded to the Skyclan leader. “I’ll be here if, for some reason, a tom gets a hold of you.”

Rainstar spared him a warm but confident glance, and leaped onto a low rise that lifted her just a little above everyone else, where she could be seen clearly.

“Right,” she called loudly, “make those scent marks strong!”

Several toms broke away and raced to the border, scent marking from the opposite end so that the Rancor toms would see them obeying a she-cat.

“Quailfur, watch your form,” she called as a few more Skyclan toms pretended to practice battle moves. “Put more strength into it, you’re not trying to play with kits!”

The Rancor patrol stumbled, then froze as a tom bowed his head in obedience to a female, and worse accepted criticism.

“What is the meaning of this?” Bonespur, snarled, “Who are you? And who died and made a _female_ leader?”

“Who dares to defy me?” Rainstar turned and looked at them, then waved her tail in a clear dismissal, “Oh, some mangy Rancor patrol. Clan Red Claw doesn’t answer to you. Go crawling back to your camp and tell your leader that Clan Red Claw has marked its borders. Stay on your own side of the border, and you won’t get hurt. We have she-cats to train.”

There was a yowl of rage and Bonespur charged.

Highleap and Juniperbranch, who had been watching for this, sprang out of the tall grass and leaped on him, slamming him to the ground. He snarled and kicked, blindly lashing out, his eyes fixed on the female who dared to give orders. He rose, lunged again, and again was brought painfully to the ground. Again he struggled for her. He paid no heed to the toms who bit and clawed at him, his rage blinding him to anything but her.

Highleap seized his scruff and shook him hard, slammed his head against the ground, lifted him, shook him again and finally kicked him away. The disoriented Rancor tom staggered, and then focused once more on the she-cat.

Rainstar was horrified by the blind hatred that drove him so foolishly, but the cold realization set in that he would see nothing until she took him down.

“Let him come,” she commanded over the tom’s snarls, “If he wants to die at the paws of a female, then I will grant his wish!”

Highleap and Juniperbranch reluctantly let the Rancor tom pass, and he charged up the hill at her.

“Starclan forgive me,” she whispered as he came. Then with a powerful blow, she struck the tom’s already battered head, and his snarls were silenced.

The body slumped, the eyes closed, and then it tumbled lifelessly down the hill.

Eaglepaw backed hastily away as the body rolled to a stop at his paws, staring in numb horror. “Is… is that what a cat looks like when he sees nothing but bloodlust?” he whispered in horror.

“Yes,” Highleap murmured back to him sadly, “That is why I’ve tried to show you that a good warrior doesn’t always leap into battle right away. You’ve now seen the twisted face of hatred.”

Eaglepaw swallowed, looking subdued.

“This is the fate of Clan Rancor,” Rainstar’s voice rang into the silence as the two surviving Rancor warriors stared. “We have made ourselves clear. Tell your clan leader, or come at me now and share his fate.”

Juniperbranch dragged Bonespur’s body to the border and dropped it at their feet, turning his back and walking back to the others without a word.

Silence stretched at the two shared a look, and then whirled and fled, abandoning their clan mate’s body in their haste to report what had just happened.

“Ugh, they really are without any sort of honor. They didn’t even try to take their own clan mate to give him a proper burial.” Rainstar muttered in disgust.

Mist shook his head sadly, “Wait until you see the Resting Place. Then you’ll _really_ be horrified.” He allowed them a few heartbeats to process, then gently bumped Rainstar’s shoulder, “We need to get into position, as do you. It’s only going to be worse from here, and we need to be ready.”

“Right.” Rainstar shook herself, “Everyone, get to your places, and be ready. We’ve declared war by stealing their she-cats and murdering one of their own. Things are going to get very messy.”

“Very messy indeed. I’ll tell the others, and get them into position. You won’t see them, but Otter’s group will be in position to back you up and Ghost will bring the she-cats who will help you perform he Lure Strikes as many times as needed.” Mist looked at each brave tom, swallowed, and then meowed, “Thank you all for coming to our aid. When this is over, a clan will be reborn.”

“And Skyclan will be given new life.” Rainstar interjected, “I see now why Starclan gave us so many toms and so few she-cats. It is an honor to aid you.”

 

.

 

Quickclaw felt cold all over. The Red Claws had made their move as Ghost had promised; the nursery was empty and had been empty for a long time by the time he peeked inside to wake them up. He had to report it, and prayed that Bane wouldn’t take his rage out on him.

“Bane!” he yowled, staring into the nursery. “BANE! Come quick! We’ve been robbed!”

“Out of the way!” Bane’s massive bulk knocked Quickclaw aside as easily as a tom batted away a kit.

The howl of rage from inside the nursery made every cat skitter backward in fear. When the Rancor leader came back out, it was if the clouds above had descended and concentrated into a storm so great that it meant to scour the earth clean. He moved slowly, but tension and fury made his muscles bulge. Claws bit into the soft loam of the camp floor and his eyes blazed.

“Quickclaw,” he growled, his burning eyes on the younger tom, “The time for planning is ended. Whatever you have prepared, bury it in the dirt. It is no longer a war to wipe out the four with a mere patrol. Every Rancor tom is to take part in-”

“Bane! Bonespur is dead! Murdered by a filthy she-cat the Red Claws have made into a leader!” The two surviving cats from the border patrol scrambled into the camp, out of breath and looking wild and bedraggled. “It’s worse than that though! They have toms! A small clan’s worth of toms. They all obey the she-cat, and they say they’re going to train she-cats to be warriors.”

Bane’s eyes bulged. The Rancor toms around Quickclaw sucked in a horrified breath as they connected the stolen queens with the newest information they had been given.

“Clan Rancor, follow me. Don’t bother protecting the camp. There’s nothing here to protect. We will hunt down every last cat the Red Claws have stirred into this… this **_abomination_**. We will descend like a flood, and we will not stop until every last one of them has watered the ground with their blood beneath our claws. Come!” He yowled the final word to the skies and charged out of camp, leading his entire clan behind him.

Quickclaw was the last to leave camp, though no one else noticed his hesitation. For that, he was grateful. But his hesitation granted him a glimpse of something unexpected; for some reason, a steady breeze kicked up at Rancor’s heels. It was blowing through the camp and teasing the foliage, smelling fresh and clean. As he left, he noticed that the scent of the Rancor camp was… fading. The wind was erasing the scent of the clan. His pelt prickled as he hurried to follow.

It felt like a premonition: no matter the outcome of this battle, Clan Rancor would not be returning to the camp.

Quickclaw raced along, his insides writhing like a nest of snakes. He would have to break away during the battle and run, run as hard as he could. He could only pray that no one realized his part in this before the battle was over. If the she-cats he had given to Ghost were recognized and seen fighting, some cat would know exactly who was responsible for their still being alive.

“Red Claws!” Bane roared as they reached the border, “You have two heartbeats to surrender our queens and kill that abomination you have leading you, or we will wipe you from the face of the land!”

There was no response from the open space of land before them, only the gentle rustle of the long grass that waved gently in the breeze.

“Very well, you have sealed your fate! Clan Rancor, attack! Drag them, screaming, out of their dens if you must!” And then he plunged into the long grass, his eyes fixed on the far off concealing underbrush where he thought his enemies were hiding.

There was a shriek to Quickclaw’s left and a Rancor tom vanished, his cry cutting off abruptly. Several more toms on the leading edge of Bane’s army disappeared with cries of shock. The Rancor toms slowed, falling behind Bane’s charge; their enemies were closer than they had realized. And then strange toms swarmed from everywhere to clash with the Rancor cats.

Quickclaw struggled to push his way through the long grass, bewildered as to whether he should put on a show, or just disappear forever. Then Evening flashed out of the grass nearby, leaped on one of two Rancor toms attacking a stranger, and sliced his nose open. She then fled, disappearing with the Rancor tom howling for blood at her heels. His howl went silent very quickly.

Quickclaw quivered. No, if he was going to live to see another sunrise, he needed to leave, **now**.

Another Rancor tom flashed past ahead of him, and the ground gave way. The Rancor tom yelped in shock as his front half vanished down a tight hole, the earth gripping and restricting the struggling tom from moving forward or backward with ease. Suddenly he gave a spasm and went still. Quickclaw pulled him back, and stared as his former clan mate’s head rolled limply as it was lifted out of the darkness.

The very ground was a death trap here! Testing each step, Quickclaw edged away from the scene of the battle. This was it. Clan Rancor couldn’t win. Not here. It was obvious the Red Claws had been planning this for a very, very long time.

Suddenly a beautiful silver face thrust out of the long grass ahead of him, muzzle twisted into a defiant snarl.

“Silver!” Suddenly everything fell away; the fear, the stress of living in and betraying Clan Rancor, and even the horrible things Bane had insinuated would happen to his sister at the paws of the Red Claws.

Indeed, even with the snarl on her muzzle, she was the most beautiful cat he had seen in his entire life. Muscles rippled beneath her pelt, showing that she was now a warrior and an equal to any tom. Her eyes burned in a way they never had before; proud, strong, brave.

“Silver,” he said it quietly now. “You’re alive. I... I missed you.”

She blinked at him, and the challenging snarl faded. She eyed him, stone faced, then turned away and padded back into the grass.

“Silver! Silver, wait, please!” Quickclaw bounded after the she-cat, feeling the grass close in around him as the shrieks and screams slowly faded behind him.

“Please talk to me,” he begged, as another shriek went silent in the distance. “Is this the clan who saved you? Did you have your kits? How many?”

They were getting farther and farther away from the battle, and Quickclaw could feel hostile eyes scorching his pelt from a direction he couldn’t pinpoint. He had no doubt that a cat was stalking him. If he made so much as a tail twitch wrong, he would be dragged down.

He would die. He expected to die. The queens-turned-warriors were making it clear that the Rancor toms that had abused them for so long were doomed. There was another distant shriek that went silent, as though to drive the point home.

But if he could learn about his kin before he died, then he would consider his life complete. Those tiny lives that had been in her belly, that he had dismissed so casually such a short time ago, suddenly felt like the most important things in his life right now.

“Two. She cats. As the Ancestor promised.” Silver had turned in a small area where the grass was shorter, and regarded him with a closed expression, “And my name isn’t Silver anymore. It’s Silver Moon On Snow.”

Slowly, nervously, Quickclaw sat down. “It’s a beautiful name. I’ve seen moonlight on snow, you know, in the depths of the Snowseason. What are your kits names?”

“Patter and Starlight.” Something had eased slightly in her face as she answered him.

“Tell me about them?” he begged. “Are they like you? Or…” He suddenly didn’t want to mention Blackfog, their father; who was probably, at this very moment, fighting and dying.

She gave him another inscrutable look, and then meowed, “I can do better. I will let you meet them.”

Hope flooded through him.

A leaf fluttered down from above and tapped him lightly on the back of the neck, where his spine met his skull. If it had been a cat, it would have been a kill bite. The memory of being tapped on the nose by a leaf at the beginning of this whole upheaval niggled at him. These leaves weren’t accidents; it felt like a warning. Out loud, he said, “May I? I would love to meet my kin.”

He followed his sister as she padded her way along a path heavy with the scent of the fleeing Rancor queens. He tried not to let fear squeeze the breath out of him. The farther he went the greater the risk of being killed. He doubted he would live to make six steps if he turned and fled now.

“Mama! Mama!” Two silver kits raced toward Silver Moon to greet her enthusiastically as they rounded a corner and came into sight of a crowd of she-cats. “Mama, who’s this?”

“Patter, Starlight, I would like to introduce you to my brother, and your kin. His name is Quickclaw.”

Wide innocent eyes met his own as their warm, sweet scent flooded his nose. They were beautiful, and he suspected that they would be stunning when they grew older.

“Wow! Hello Quickclaw. Are you going to teach us how to hunt and fight?” Patter meowed, drinking in the sight of him without fear.

“I… I would like to,” he meowed, “but that’s not up to me. Your clan leader will probably pick who will teach you.”

Silver Moon gave a flick of her tail, and the feeling of being hunted faded away.

“Could you show us?” Starlight put her tiny paws on his front legs to look up at him, “Show us how to hunt a mouse?” Her sparkling gaze pulled at Quickclaw’s heart, and he couldn’t find it in him to refuse.

“One moment kits,” a she-cat’s voice rang out across the clearing, “Quickclaw isn’t a member of our clan. He isn’t allowed to do anything with you until then.”

Quickclaw turned and stared at the silvery she-cat that oozed out of the tree behind him.

“Quickclaw, I am Lightning that Strikes at Night.”

“Skies above,” he whispered, as he took in his first glimpse of the she-cat rumored to have put an end to many of his former clan mates. “You’re the fourth cat; the one no one has ever seen and lived to tell the tale.”

“Yes I am. So you know exactly where you stand.”

Quickclaw gulped.

“Quickclaw, do you renounce Clan Rancor and all it stands for? Will you take on a new name, and a new life with Clan Red Claw?” Lightning padded next to Silver Moon and faced him.

“Say yes! Say yes!” Starlight couldn’t seem to hold it in and she bounced eagerly in place.

“Hush,” Silver Moon scolded sternly, “This is a very serious promise he has to make.”

Lightning’s long whiskers gave a single amused twitch, though her eyes never left his.

Quickclaw took a deep breath, “I do.” Warmth suddenly blew through him as though a summer breeze had been kicked up, though the leaves were utterly still. Words spilled out of him, and they felt so right that it was as if cobwebs were being swept from between his ears, “By the sun, and the moon, I swear to support and defend all cats within Clan Red Claw to the end of my days.” His fur quivered and then he hesitantly meowed, “However long that may be.”

Lightning’s icy blue eyes softened for the first time, “Then by the sun, and the moon. By the great ancestors above, and the blood that flows in your veins, you stand beneath the open sky and reveal your true self to all who would stand beside you. Quickclaw, show me your claws.”

Hesitantly he lifted his paw and flexed his strong, sharp claws. There was nothing special about them, and his heart sank somewhat as Silver Moon pressed her paw to his and her own red claws locked with his.

“Quickclaw, on this day, the sun gleams upon your claws.” His sister meowed, her warm gaze unwavering, “Tomorrow it will rise, and with it shall begin the birth of a new life for you. I, Silver Moon On Snow, stand as witness to this day. Quickclaw, from this day forward, you will be known as Quick Claw In The Dark. Welcome my brother, to Clan Red Claw.”

“But… my claws aren’t red.” Quick Claw objected weakly.

“No, Clan Red Claw toms normally aren’t.” Lightning reassured him. “My brothers have been the only exceptions. It’s all right. Keep to your promise and the color of your claws won’t matter.”

“Now,” Starlight butted in eagerly, “about hunting that mouse…”


	12. Chapter 12

As the line of Rancor cats charged, Quailfur seized his first opponent; a young tom, barely four seasons old. Although he struck swiftly, and his enemy didn’t suffer, the shriek of surprise made his stomach clench, and his heart squeezed as he killed the Rancor tom swiftly and with as little pain as possible. This was a battle for survival, and the Rancor cats had to die. He knew that, but he didn’t have to like it.

As shrieks and screeches erupted around him, he leaped upon his next opponent; a red tabby with hazel eyes. Weaseltooth. One of the six.

Again his heart clenched… He hadn’t thought about it before, but now he stared at his opponent and realized just what he was up against. The six were supposed to be the most cunning and dangerous cats under Bane’s command. They had lived as long as they had by being too dangerous for the younger cats to challenge.

And perhaps they were ‘too dangerous,’ at least in reputation. But now he realized… this cat was old.

The four Red Claws were five Snowseasons old… experienced warriors by Skyclan reckoning. They had been kits when they had been taken away. The six survivors of Clan Rancor’s original group had to have been seasoned adults in order to survive the battle that had nearly wiped them out. At least two Snowseasons old, if not more at the time of the first slaughter of Clan Red Claw.

Weaseltooth should have been an Elder, stretched out contentedly in the sun, not racing off to kill strangers beyond the borders of his own territory. But no, Rancor toms fought until death. The old cat bared dull, yellow fangs at Quailfur and snarled in a quavering, cracked voice.

Pity stabbed Quailfur’s heart. The old cat probably knew that this would be his last battle, and it was a battle against a cat much younger, probably quicker, and with more strength and stamina.

“I will make it quick, old warrior,” Quailfur meowed quietly.

Weaseltooth snorted, “Pity I won’t grant you the same courtesy.”

The old cat lashed out, quick as any young warrior, claws lashing for Quailfur’s eyes. Quailfur dodged and struck back, claws raking across Weaseltooth’s face.

Weaseltooth sprang, and the two cats tumbled through the grass. Delicate ear skin tore under the Skyclan warrior’s claws and he battered at the Rancor tom’s belly with his hind feet. He felt Weaseltooth’s teeth slice the skin on the side of his neck, spraying blood, but not sinking deep enough to be too serious.

Weaselfur liked to rip his enemies to pieces and let blood loss do the fighting for him, Quailfur remembered as he seized the Rancor tom’s face and bashed it, nose first, into a rock. His enemy howled in pain and lost his grip, claws unhooking from Quailfur’s shoulders.

He had to use superior strength. Gritting his teeth, he kicked Weaseltooth’s ribs as hard as he could, driving the air out of his opponent, then leaped upon his fallen enemy and sank his teeth into the red tabby’s throat.

Another Rancor tom dead, he thought in half-numb horror, as he stared down at the limp form sprawled at his feet. He could feel no pride in the two deaths that already stained his paws red.

Weaseltooth should have been sharing stories with wide eyed kits. He should have been honored by his clan, proud that his days of fighting were over and knowing that he had served his clan to the best of his abilities.

Another shriek brought Quailfur back to the present. It did no good to bemoan the should-haves of Clan Rancor. He took a deep, steadying breath and looked around for one of his clanmates to help. Clan Rancor toms wouldn’t, but this Skyclan warrior would keep his training in mind!

Teeth gritted he leaped on Flashfreeze, who had pinned Thistlepath to the ground and was clawing for the Skyclan Warrior’s throat.

The two Skyclan warriors worked in tandem, feinting and snapping. As Otter had warned them, Flashfreeze was skilled at disappearing into the foliage, and he scored several painful strikes to both warriors and vanished again into the grass.

“Quailfur! Remember what Mist told us about fighting in the grass?” Thistlepath gasped at last.

“Right, back to back, keep your ears down,” Quailfur meowed, watching the long grass for any sign of Flashfreeze’s movements.

The grass rustled, and he felt Thistlepath move behind him. Flashfreeze yelped in surprise and pain and then vanished into the grass again.

“Watch yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I have him,” Quailfur growled softly back, tracking the rippling grass as it circled toward him.

Flashfreeze leaped out, both paws drawn back to give a vicious blow to Quailfur’s shoulder, perhaps hoping to knock him away from the safety of his clanmate.

Quailfur was ready. Diving low under Flashfreeze’s attack, he bucked upward, throwing the Rancor tom nose over tail across the ground.

Flashfreeze’s expression turned to surprise as he rolled, skidded, and then his front half vanished as the concealed tunnel entrance opened beneath him. With his front half hemmed in by earth, he scrabbled uselessly for a heartbeat or two. Then he jerked, and was still.

Otter’s patrol had struck from beneath the ground.

Quailfur swallowed, and then he and Thistlepath spun and leaped upon yet another Rancor tom.

 

.

 

The reek of blood hung heavy over the battlefield, and more than one cat from both sides found a body to stumble over. No tom had gotten away without some sort of wound, and several she-cats had needed to take a break, dizzy from all the running and all the lives they had taken.

Rainstar had never fought cats like this; the single minded drive to kill wasn’t even the worst of it… it was the fact that they ignored their own clanmates. She had seen a young Rancor tom go down beneath Kestrelwing’s claws, and not a single Rancor cat had tried to rescue him. Even now, the still body was simply leaped over with no regard from those who had to have known him.

Rainstar took a quick glance around.

Flashfreeze and Weaseltooth were dead. Bonebreak was trying to find a chink in Highleap’s and Eaglepaw’s defense as the two fought him off. Flashbite was hemmed in by three Red Claw she-cats, who frustrated the enraged tom by dancing quickly around him and landing painful blows. He couldn’t charge blindly, because every cat who wounded him was female, and it ruined his focus. His fat kittypet-like body did belie how fast he was, but with all three females striking him in turn, his speed wasn’t helping him very much.

That left Badgerheart. The Rancor Enforcer was fighting as if he didn’t even notice his wounds, of which there were many. Juniperbranch was struck by a glancing blow from Badgerheart’s paw and spun sideways to collapse. Kestrelwing and Thistlepath leaped in to distract the Enforcer, so their clanmate could stagger to his feet before a killing blow could land.

He seemed to shrug off most of their strikes, despite bleeding from a cut above his eyes and missing great clumps of fur wherever he wasn’t wounded.

There was a thud, and the Red Claw she-cat Reed rose from the grass where Flashbite had stood moments before. Rainstar hissed to get their attention and flicked her tail at Badgerheart.

Rain, Reed and Evening immediately bounded over to follow her and to flank her as the Rancor Enforcer turned to face them.

“So you’re the abomination that created this whole mess.” Badgerheart’s voice was harsh and his eyes cold. “If it weren’t for you, good Rancor toms wouldn’t be dead or dying right now.”

“The world is larger than Clan Rancor, Badgerheart,” Rainstar meowed, “Yours is the only clan... the **only** clan to treat she-cats like this. There are many other clans out there, with female warriors and female leaders.”

Badgerheart’s expression darkened, “Then they are all abominations, and only Clan Rancor’s toms will pass into the Skies Above.”

Rainstar felt cold. Badgerheart did not fly into a blind rage like other Rancor toms. Instead he simply shut out doubt and focused on a cold and heartless belief; he was right, and everyone else in the whole world was wrong. But worse than that was the absolute faith that his clan was right to kill any other clan within reach who was different, and that every cat he killed would only fuel his belief that he was right and others were wrong. Bane had corrupted Silver Moon’s brother so completely that she feared there would be no reasoning with him.

She tried one last time to appeal to some part of him that would be willing to change, “Skyclan has our own ancestors, and I am proof that you are wrong, Badgerheart. I was given nine lives by my own ancestors when I became leader.”

“Then to prove that you, and they, are wrong I will simply rip those lives from you. And when you lay dead at my feet, it will be proof that Clan Rancor is superior!” Badgerheart leaped for her, his expression as cold and emotionless as stone. Her words had done nothing.

The Skyclan leader and her entourage scattered like birds in every direction, and then whipped back to strike at him from all sides.

He lashed out, sending Reed tumbling. Evening leaped upon his back and sank her teeth into his scruff, claws digging into his shoulders. Badgerheart rolled, slamming the queen against the ground. Rainstar and Rain were on him before he could turn on the stunned she-cat, bowling him over and striking for his exposed belly. Unbelievably, he slapped them both aside, twisting back to his paws and surging forward to snap at Rainstar’s throat. He got so close, that he ripped out several delicate hairs from the Skyclan leader’s throat as his teeth clashed together.

But someone had attacked him from behind; gentle Reed had him by the hind leg and was tearing at his thigh like a dog worrying at a bone.

Badgerheart kicked viciously at her head, but she simply bit harder, every blow from Badgerheart’s good hind leg only driving her teeth deeper into the muscles there.

Evening slammed into the Enforcer, knocking him off of his feet. The next vicious kick went awry, and Rain took advantage of his fumble to strike. She sank her teeth into a spot just behind his skull, and then gave a violent wrench.

There was a wet cracking noise. The powerful Enforcer jerked, and then collapsed, cold expression growing slack.

The four she-cats looked around, as the shrieks and snarls had faded. There was blood everywhere. A breeze sent clumps of loose fur tumbling across the grass like uprooted weeds.

The Rancor toms had outnumbered the Skyclan warriors when the battle had begun. Now there were only a few places in the long grass that still lashed about as struggles continued out of sight. Skyclan warriors, covered with wounds but determined, were scattering to join these tussles. The battle was basically over.

In several places, bodies lay where they had fallen. In several others, only the back halves of Rancor enemies could be seen, their front halves crammed tightly down disguised holes in the earth. None of them moved either. Otter’s team had indeed come though in the fight.

Something was wrong. Bane had been described as an enormous gray marbled tom, and she had seen him at the beginning of the fight. He had even led the charge. But all of these Rancor cats were normal sized cats. He wasn’t one of the battlefield dead, and there was no sign of him looming over the grass in the tussles, which were dwindling.

Had the Rancor leader led the charge and then retreated to avoid being a part of the fight? That didn’t sound like him. Something must have caught his attention more thoroughly than the lust for battle.

Rainstar’s eyes flicked toward the underbrush, and her body went cold. The she-cats! “Evening! Rain! Reed! Bane is going after the camp!”


	13. Chapter 13

Ghost and Mist stood side by side on the open field, staring across the border into Rancor territory.

“Are you ready, brother?” Ghost murmured.

“Ready ever since that day.” Mist replied. “Hah! I’m trembling,” and indeed his legs quivered beneath him, “I want to explode like a thunderclap and take them all like a one-cat-landslide! It’s time, finally. We can rebuild what we’ve lost, and every cat who has gone before us will know that their sacrifice was not in vain.”

Ghost looked thoughtful, “I don’t think they ever had that doubt.”

“Heh. Maybe not.”

They were silent for a heartbeat then Mist said, much more quietly, “Ghost, you remember what I told you Lightning and I saw, of our mother’s death?”

Ghost’s tail drooped, “I do. I’m sorry you had to watch her die.”

“I’m not,” a look of ferocious pride crossed Mist’s face, “Ghost, that scene was engraved in my thoughts since that day. You know my technique of striking hard and getting away? The blows I rain down where an enemy never rises again? That’s our mother’s fighting style.”

Ghost’s breath caught in his throat.

“Sure I pitched a Rancor tom over a waterfall and earned my name,” Mist’s silver eyes gleamed, “but my fighting style is all Rainfall on Green Leaf’s. We’ve never truly lost her. She’s fought alongside all of you, through me, for all these seasons. And this day, this battle, she fights with us again.”

Ghost pressed himself to Mist’s side, “Then in honor of her strength and skill living on, don’t die today.”

He chuckled and the dark, deadly humor swirled behind Mist’s silver eyes once more. “Hah, same for yourself. Make one of them scream especially for her.”

A distant howl of rage from within Rancor territory made every cat perk his ears.

“It begins. Skyclan, once again, thank you. May your Starclan and our Skies Above Ancestors watch over us all!” Ghost called.

There was a brief flurry of movement as the waiting warriors stretched a final time in preparation for battle, and then they all melted into the gently waving grass.

Slowly, Mist took a deep breath and let it out. As the lung full of air left his body, so did every other thought. Gone were the friendly days of training Petalpaw. Gone was the tenderness from Nightheart that had washed over him when he had shared his story. Gone, even, was the battle with the rogues when he fought honorably and didn’t kill, but simply drove off his enemies.

This was today, a day where cats were either an ally, or an enemy. All enemies had to be killed. This was the cat stained with the blood of Rancor toms. The loss, the tragedy, the horror, and the scars that left no mark upon pelts… They all came together to make Mist. Today, blood would spray skyward, and hopefully fall and quench the terrible part of the Red Claw that had been yearning for just this one day. When it was over, the terrible killer would finally sleep for eternity. But until that time…

Mist opened his eyes, and the cold killer was firmly in place.

Bane and his cronies arrived at the line that divided their territory. Bane’s brash challenge echoed over the seemingly empty field, and ice bled into Mist’s heart.

_Not yet._

Bane led the charge, encountering nothing but tall grass that could be pushed though with little effort.

_Almost._

Their eyes were fixed on the distant foliage, not once looking to the left or the right at the tiny movements of the grass as eyes gleamed out at the charging Rancor toms.

_Now!_

They were a tail length away when Mist charged. Like a silver streak, he closed on a Rancor tom. The first shriek of surprise, and the first death of the battle was Mist’s, and his alone, as he hit his enemy with all his weight behind the teeth that sank into his enemy’s throat. But it wasn’t the last.

His enemy’s body was still dropping to the ground when Mist whipped around and slammed into another Rancor tom, who was still charging forward: he hadn’t even had time to process what the first scream meant. The second scream came from farther along the field as a Skyclan warrior took out another cat. Mist’s second kill was just one more cry in a battle that exploded around him.

A wraithlike flicker was, of course, Ghost, striking a Rancor tom from behind as the cat tried to gang up on Kestrelwing with two others. One of the surviving Rancor toms was just turning to face the threat when another flicker reduced him to a tumbling body in the grass. Kestrelwing clashed with the remaining tom, but Ghost was already away, darting about on the field and laying about him wherever it seemed like the Rancor toms had superior numbers against the Skyclan cats.

Mist’s tactic was similar, just a bit more visible than his nearly invisible brother. He leaped and sprang. Every blow either killed outright, or blinded a Rancor tom so that he could be taken out. Once in a while, he seized a surprised Rancor tom and stuffed him straight down a concealed hole, leaping away before the doomed cat even jerked from the deadly strike in the darkness below.

He lost track of the number of cats he killed. The occasional gasp of “Thanks Mist!” from a Skyclan cat that he rescued only received a tail flick of acknowledgement as he leaped away to another kill.

Finally, he ran out of opponents. Mist blinked, and looked around. The war was nearly over. Only a few small knots of struggling could be seen. His entire body ached from all the running and attacking he had done. His paws were throbbing from the countless blows. He could smell nothing but the coppery reek of blood, and he was stained from his muzzle all the way down to his front paws with the blood of his victims. This… would require a swim to clean himself off.

The deadly killer was fading away, sated. He looked around, something strange bothering him. Something was missing.

At the same time, Rainstar’s cry rang out over the battlefield, “Evening! Rain! Reed! Bane is going after the camp!”

_No!_ Mist lurched after the she-cats, his entire body protesting the further demands he was making on it. His speed was gone, and he half staggered in the wake of the racing she-cats that pulled ahead of him. _Silver Moon! Her kits!_ If Bane got to them, Clan Red Claw’s plans would be destroyed! The horrible thought of Patter and Starlight suffering the same loss that had nearly destroyed Lightning was the one thing that drove him desperately back to camp despite his body shrieking at him that he had done enough.

By the time he got there, Bane was in the clearing, facing down… Petalpaw!

_Skies Above no! Petalpaw, get away from him!_ Mist was dismayed that his cry of warning echoed only in his head. He started forward, hoping to thrust himself between the two… and a leaf fluttered down from above to tap his left ear.

Mist froze, legs quivering. It was Lightning’s signal for ‘wait.’

Letting out an exhausted breath, Mist slowly sank down to do just that. He prayed to the Skies Above that he wouldn’t need to make any fast moves. He doubted he could.

 

.

 

When the first Rancor warrior disappeared with a shriek of surprise, Bane had thought nothing of it. A thorn or a twig could have fouled his paws. One warrior being slowed was of no consequence. The second caught his attention, and by the time the field had exploded into screams and snarls, Bane knew he had miscalculated the cleverness of the Red Claws.

But he simply stretched his legs out and kept charging. If he could break through the line, he could turn and come back at the Red Claw line from behind. No more cats ran at his back, having been engaged in battle. But that didn’t matter. Bane was a powerhouse in his own right. He charged all the way to the underbrush then spun around to deal with any cats that might have followed him.

None had.

Sneering, he tensed to charge back into battle and rip though the Red Claws like a claw through a leaf. Then the scent hit him.

Warm. Milky. Sweet. He had found the scent trail of the fleeing queens and their kits.

His lips curled in triumph. They hadn’t bothered to conceal the scent trail so deep in their own territory. This was a mistake he would gladly take advantage of. Turning his back on the battlefield, he pushed his way into the undergrowth.

The screeches and snarls faded behind him as Bane tracked the scent trail through Red Claw territory. It was a strong, clear trail; the warm milky scent of queens, the heady scent of nubile she-cats just old enough to start pleasing toms, and the sweet scent of kits. Clan Rancor would just have to hold their own for a while. He would find the she-cats, and they would obey him, and then he would have hostages. Then Clan Red Claw would be slaughtered down to the last filthy cat. He might even kill a few she-cats in front of them, just to make a point.

Those Red Claws wouldn’t dare strike back at his warriors with the lives of the females at risk, which was funny, since he planned to kill a few she-cats whether or not the Red Claws surrendered. A grim smirk pulled at his whiskers. He was so focused on the scent trail that when a leaf fluttered down to tap him on the nose, he simply shook it away impatiently.

Something light tapped the back of his neck and then slid down, caressing his back.

Bane growled and looked around, scowling at another leaf that fluttered away in the wind. Something nibbled at him. These weren’t yellow or brown dead leaves, but strong green leaves that should have been attached to a branch.

Narrowing his eyes Bane continued, but now he also glanced suspiciously at his surroundings. This whole stand of trees rustled and moved, but strangely there wasn’t a lot of dead mulch around. There was no reason for the constant breezes to be stripping plants of healthy leaves. And he could sense someone nearby, but unseen. There was no hint that he could see, just a growing uneasiness that seemed to come from an unknown source.

He could have sworn that he was being stalked like a mouse. He shoved the feeling away. He was twice the size of any cat. No one could match him in strength, size, weight, or viciousness. If someone thought they could ambush him, they would learn their mistake soon enough.

He pushed through the undergrowth, and found himself at a clearing in the center of Red Claw territory. And here were the she-cats. Bane knew several faces that looked up at him in surprise. He had taken pleasure from a few of them personally. Some, he knew a little less.

There was that filthy abomination Silver, with her two kits. Still alive, the queen sported unnatural and well developed muscles beneath her pelt. Females should be soft and delicate. It was disgusting to see a female strong and sleek as a male. He would make an Example of her soon enough; and those kits too, since they were extra she-cats and unwanted… useless. Now he knew why the Red Claws hadn’t reported her death, and why they had stolen the females from Clan Rancor; they planned to corrupt every Rancor female all the way down to the kits. If they were corrupted by the thought of training to fight, they would all have to be either beaten back into submission, or culled down to the last adult she-cat. The Red Claws were going to destroy everything Bane had built.

He stepped into the open and spotted someone else at the fringes of the silent, watchful group. A cat who was crouching near the little worthless kits, and nodding encouragingly as they mimicked his hunter’s crouch. He was teaching she-kits how to hunt! Surely there was a mistake? Perhaps he was misunderstanding what he was seeing. Carefully concealing his shock and outrage, he meowed curiously; “Quickclaw?”

The cat stopped and turned to him, “Bane? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” the Rancor Leader growled dangerously.

To Bane’s mild surprise, Quickclaw didn’t flinch. He simply shrugged, “The wind is shifting Bane. If you can’t smell it yourself, it’s not my fault.”

Bane gave him a look of disgust, “It is perfectly obvious to me that if we don’t get these females back to the nursery, they’re going to be corrupted into thinking they can fight like a tom. I will not let the Red Claws get away with that. They’re being slain by my warriors even now. We outnumbered them when I left. It is unlikely that that weak female ‘leader’ is capable of defeating so many toms.”

Quickclaw rolled his eyes openly, and the fur on Bane’s back lifted at his free insolence, “Oh no, Skies forbid that a female be equal to a tom.” His voice dripped with sarcasm and scorn. Coolly he meowed, “There are more she-cats here than you see just in front of you; you just don’t see all of them because some of them don’t want to be found. Go back Bane. Clan Rancor is fighting. You should be with them.”

“Oh young Quickclaw, you may live long enough to learn that a good Rancor warrior fights smarter, not harder.” Bane stalked boldly across the clearing, growling in irritation when another leaf tapped him across the eyes.  Then several more hit him one right after another; brushing and bumping his four legs. He kicked them away, impatiently.

“Come,” he ordered a young she-cat and, oddly, he didn’t recognize her. He would sort out which queen she had been born to later. She stood, staring up at Bane with wide eyes, “it’s time to go back where you belong.”

The she cat looked all around, and then sat down. “You must be Bane. You’re huge, but you don’t get to boss me around.”

_Impertinent little brat!_ This was what became of letting she-cats out of the nursery; they disrespected toms and thought they were actually equals!

Impatience flashed through him, “I said come!”

“Why? You’re not my clan leader,” the young cat sneered, “Or maybe you’re too dumb to realize I’m not one of your she-cats.” She gave him a scathing stare out of disturbingly penetrating yellow eyes.

Bane froze for just a single heartbeat; those eyes seemed to stare straight through him. Then the fur on her back lifted and she sprang back to her paws with a hiss. “Murderer! Filthy, cowardly, vicious murderer! You’re proud of every kill! You **like** seeing pain and misery! It gives you pleasure to abuse she-cats, and you actually laugh when your victims moan or cry! You’re **disgusting**! You should be buried with all the other dirt—”

“Silence!” Bane roared, a massive paw lashing out, intending to rip the young she-cat’s throat out. The air whistled at his passage, but, incredibly, she sprang clear with a hiss of scorn. She moved like a hunter, and he saw that she too was gaining muscles like a tom. Those disgusting muscles of hers were giving her speed and balance that no female should have been capable of. He needed to cull her as soon as he got the females under his control.

“Yes that’s right! Hit a female to show off how strong you are! I’m sure we’re all very impressed with how well you can beat up those who are smaller than you!” Incredibly, the little female was still spitting scorn at him, her eyes filled with loathing. His attempt to kill her for her insolence hadn’t fazed her in the slightest.

And then there was movement. The she-cats who had been hanging back and watching Bane were coming forward. They closed ranks behind and around the she-cat, forming a wall of flesh and fur. The fear was gone from all of their faces now, only stony, unfriendly expressions.

None of them were capable of fighting him, and yet they were uniting against him. As one, all of the she-cats sat.

“We’re not going with you.” One of the younger females from his clan was actually bold enough to address him.

Bane’s ears flattened in fury and he slowly stalked forward with deliberate, menacing steps, “I am your clan leader and a tom. That means you obey!”

A titter rolled through the assembled she cats. Yet another of the other females was actually bold enough to address him, now. “What if we don’t want to obey?”

“Did you forget that she-cats don’t get a choice? I am a tom, that means you do what I say, and like it, and you will beg for more if I tell you to beg for more! Of course, if that’s the kind of thing you like...” Bane didn’t notice the odd way in which the entire forest around him had gone, suddenly and abruptly, dead silent. Not even an insect chirped. The feeling of being hunted intensified, but Bane never looked away from the second young female who had addressed him, “But I can be forgiving too. You don’t know how dangerous the world is,” Bane purred at his most convincing, “It’s far too dangerous for a she-cat to be gallivanting about away from the safety of the nursery. You were protected there.”

“Were we?” There was a cutting note in the young she-cat’s voice. “Tell me Bane. What happened to Evening? Where did she go, _Bane_? What about Streak? And Reed? How about Pool? Want to tell us where they went if we were so safe? Tell us Bane, where did they go when Quickclaw came to take them away?”

“You know where they went. It was time for them to join our Rancor Ancestors to serve the toms who had gone before.” Bane’s patronizing tone made several pelts ruffle.

“You mean you ordered that they be murdered.” Several whiskers jittered with mirth at some sort of secret joke, even as the eyes above them grew cold as the heart of Snowfall. “Petalpaw is right. You’re nothing but a cruel murderer.”

Bane frowned. Where had they learned such harsh, accusing words? He shook his head, “You are young. You will learn that the things I do are for the good of the Clan. Not that I have to explain them to you. All you need to know is that toms take care of the difficult problems while all females have to do is look pretty and have kits.”

The defiant young cat called Petalpaw hissed at him. So too did several other females.

Bane reared back, startled by the open defiance and threat. Then his eyes hardened, “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.” And he lunged for Petalpaw, intending to knock her flat and punish her before the others as an Example.

A weight plummeted down from above to slam into Bane with nearly back breaking force. Teeth sank into his neck and he all but roared at the shock and pain of it. His instincts shrieked that he was about to be mobbed and he whirled just in time to be stunned by the sight of a strange she-cat exploding out of the bushes and seizing a tight hold of one leg. Three more followed suit: all she-cats who should have been dead at Quickclaw’s fangs.

“Quickclaw!’ he snarled in rage, “Filthy she-heart! You’ve betrayed Clan Rancor! When I get a hold of you…” The she-cats wrenched his legs out from under him he landed on the ground with a thud, the weight of his attacker bearing him down.

He struggled and kicked. This was ridiculous! He outweighed them all! And he was a tom, not a feeble she-cat! He should be able to shake them all off without even breathing hard.

But the she-cats were working in tandem. Something small inside him whispered that they had all attacked exactly where the leaves had bumped his legs. He couldn’t free a single leg in order to strike out at them; he could barely move.

A paw flicked forward from the she-cat that clung to his back. It was a beautiful silver in color, but the claws were a dark cherry red. He snapped at it desperately, but it evaded his muzzle and flicked under his chin. He choked as those sharp points dug into the soft skin of his throat and tightened.

The teeth that had held his scruff released him only for a moment, “I am Lightning That Strikes at Night,” he heard the words whispered in his ear, “I am the fourth Red Claw, the she-cat raised and trained to fight from kithood. And it is my honor and privilege to send you to your doom!”

Then a blinding pain shot through him as she sank her teeth into the spot just behind his head; the spot that Bane had always favored for the killing blow.


	14. Chapter 14

“They killed Bane!”

“She-cats killed Bane!”

“Even Bane couldn’t win against a group of she-cats!”

The whispers raced around the camp.

“Petalpaw? Are you all right?” Lightning looked down at the apprentice who stood, legs trembling, staring at the still body of Bane with loathing.

“That was horrible,” the apprentice meowed, “I saw him… all of him. What he did to the cats he was supposed to love and protect…” she shuddered all over.

Lightning grimaced, then stepped forward and pressed her cheek against Petalpaw’s, “You were so brave though! So quick and brave! You pushed him past the breaking point! You made him slip up; he made a mistake! He was so focused on you that he never heard the others racing back to camp!”

Slowly, Petalpaw’s trembling eased.

“Petalpaw, I’m so proud of you.” Rainstar joined Lightning and pressed her muzzle against Petalpaw’s other cheek. “Just remember though, that for every horrible thing we face and live though is a lesson. Now that you have seen the bad things that a cat can be, you’ll make sure no one you know and love will ever follow in those bloody pawprints. You will be a wise, kind, and noble cat when you grow up.”

There was a rustle, and Mist staggered into sight, his expression weary and his pelt covered in the aftermath of battle. “It’s over. We’ve won. Clan Red Claw has been resurrected.”

Lightning’s eyes widened “Mist! You’re…”

“It’s all right. Most of it isn’t mine.” He looked over at Petalpaw, “I’ve never seen a cat, tom or she-cat, so brave, or so clever. You did what even we four could not do; you manipulated Bane. You did brilliantly.”

“So they say,” Petalpaw meowed, “but I’m going to have nightmares for moons about what I saw.”

“That is good though. Dreams help a cat process what she has endured.” Lightning butted in, “I had nightmares for moons too. But eventually, they faded. And I learned how to use what I saw to make myself stronger, rather than being horrified by them.”

“Lightning, we’re going to need your help.” Rainstar padded over to them, “There are going to be injuries, and our medicine cat, Maplefur, is too far away to be of help. Do you four know which of the local plants will help my warriors?”

The she-cat nodded and purred warmly, “Let all the she-cats gather. I can tell you what to gather and how to use it.” She glanced at Mist, “Go rinse off, and then get some rest. If I know you at all, then I know you pushed yourself to the limit in battle.”

It was a testament to Mist’s physical state that he wordlessly staggered to the nearest stream, rather than make a joke or scoff at the idea of resting.

Skyclan cats trickled back to camp slowly and each one was quickly cared for by Lightning, Reed, Pool, Streak and Evening.

Lightning saw how Reed’s eyes sparkled as she drank in every word about the effects of the herbs and how to use them. Her whiskers twitched. Her bravery in the fight with Badgerheart was already spreading through the camp, but Ghost had also told her how reluctant Reed In River Current had been to take on fighting skills.

Perhaps it was time to have a talk with the she-cat. Reed was not a young cat, but that wouldn’t matter. She had moons stretching out before her… moons that she wouldn’t have had in Clan Rancor.

“Reed? It looks like everyone is settled. Would you come with me please? There’s something important I want to talk to you about.” Lightning murmured as the exhausted Skyclan cats sank into their temporary nests.

The two she-cats moved away so that their conversation wouldn’t disturb the others.

“You were amazing in the fight against Bane,” Lightning said, not missing the way Reed shifted uncomfortably. “You held on through the pain of being kicked by Badgerheart, and I heard from Ghost that you used the Lure Strike very effectively in battle.”

“I… I’m glad it’s over. I hated it. I mean, I know we had to… and I know it’s part of being a warrior to fight for our freedom but…” Reed rubbed the side of her head where Badgerheart’s blows had rained down.

“What if you didn’t have to be warrior?”

Reed stiffened, “Lightning, I refuse to spend my life in the nursery again!”

“Skies about us, no!” Lightning exclaimed, “I would never ask that of any of you. No, I wasn’t planning on putting you in the nursery either.”

“Well, what else is there? Clan leader?” Reed blinked, “I would be honored, Lightning, I really would but… I have no idea how to do that.”

“No, not clan leader either. We have some other cat in mind for that position. I saw how you acted when I started telling the she-cats about the herbs. Your eyes lit up like the moon.” Lightning put her whiskers forward kindly.

“You mean to say... there’s a position in a clan that only deals with herbs?”

“Somewhat. In Skyclan, I met a tom named Maplefur. He used his knowledge of herbs to help his clan stay healthy. He tended their wounds, but he also served as a bridge across the gap between the living warriors and the warriors that had passed. He was called a medicine cat. When my brothers and I were kits, Clan Red Claw had a cat who did similar things. She was called the remedy seeker.” Lightning looked up at the sky, still clouded over.

It was hard to believe that the battle had only begun shortly after dawn, and the terrible bloody war hadn’t even taken the entire day. It was only now heading toward evening, and despite the cloud cover, she knew that the first hints of the night sky were just barely appearing at the edges of the horizon.

Reed was silent for a long moment. “I would be Clan Red Claw’s remedy seeker? I would never have to raise a claw in battle again?”

“Well, not entirely true. There are still dangers in our world. We want you to be able to defend yourself, so yes, you would have to fight. But it would not be a day-to-day concern for you anymore,” Lightning agreed, “and every cat would respect you as much as any warrior, because your position would be both special and very important.”

Relief washed over the she-cat’s face and she tipped her face toward the sky as a warm shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and spilled over her fur. “Then yes! Oh Skies Above your words sound so right for me, it’s like finally seeing the sun after a long rain!”

Lightning shot the open patch of sky an amused glance, “I would say our ancestors agree. Then, when everything with Skyclan is settled, we will see about getting your position firmly and officially established. In the meantime, please keep an eye on our allies. I’m going to band the she-cats together and see about burying the Rancor toms. It’s a bad precedent if we leave them to the open sky.”

Reed shivered, “You’re right. One Resting Place is bad enough. What will we do about the one we have?”

Lightning frowned, “I’m not sure. Maybe that can be your first question to our Ancestors. The pit is far too large for any cat to fill up in their lifetime, and it presents a danger to kits and grown cats alike keeping the vulture and crows so close. I also wouldn’t envy the cat who fell in while pursuing prey.”

Reed nodded and turned her gaze toward the sky thoughtfully as Lightning padded back to the others. “I will ask our Ancestors tonight then, and see if they have an answer.” She blinked. “Um, how do I do that?”

“Simply ask. I think our remedy seeker did it in her dreams.”

“Then I hope my dreams are full of starry coated cats.”

 

.

 

The next day, the clouds had grown heavy and dark. A faint rumble could be heard now and again. The rain had had only been threatened of the previous day was showing signs of coming to full fruition.

Every cat was either weary from the hard desperate battle the day before, or from the long trek from Clan Rancor’s Nursery. Lightning and the first female warriors had spent a long night digging graves for the Rancor toms that had been slain in battle, helped by a few willing she-cats and even a young tom or two who was nearly ready to become a Pupil.

Still, when Reed approached, she lifted her head to listen.

“Lightning, no cat talked to me, but I saw that this storm is our answer,” Reed meowed nervously. “and I had a very strong impression of danger to us if we stayed here.”

Lightning glanced up at the clouds and shuddered, “I think you’re right. Those clouds are almost as dark as night. I’d better gather everyone together.”

She moved over to her brothers and had a few quick words with them, anxiety making her pelt ruffle. Then the four siblings flowed up the trunk of their favorite tree and perched next to one another.

“Toms, queens, she-cats and Skyclan cats alike, please gather for the first true Clan Red Claw meeting.” Mist called, sitting on a low branch.

Slowly, every cat dragged themselves out of their nests and out of the cover to join him.

“The reign of Bane is over. Clan Rancor has been utterly destroyed. Today dawns on Clan Red Claw’s resurrection. Never again will a she-cat spend all her days in the nursery. Never again will a tom beat or abuse his own clan mates. From here on out, all cats will have the opportunity to be a warrior!” Mist gazed down at his new clan mates with warmth and pride.

A ragged cheer rose from the throats of every cat.

“It is time for Clan Red Claw’s first big decision. I wish I could say that every cat will be given his or her new name today, or even tomorrow. Unfortunately, we have some work ahead of us, and before even that, before even selecting our new clan leader,” some cats shifted thoughtfully at the prospect, “we must move to Clan Red Claw’s true camp. Lightning has read the winds and the skies. Those clouds are going to open up a massive deluge by this afternoon. When there were four of us, we took to the trees during a heavy storm. There are now too many of us to do so safely, and during rain, Otter’s tunnels run the risk of being flooded. There simply isn’t enough shelter here, and cats would be miserable, cold and at risk of getting sick in the rain.”

There was an uneasy murmur from the she-cats and kits.

“We _must_ move,” Ghost insisted from his position next to Mist on the branch. “I know the old Rancor camp will have bad memories for many of you, but it is a better place to spend the storm. It is designed to drain off the worst of the deluge, and has ample space for every cat to be warm and dry.”

“There are also ample herbs close to the camp, and I know many of you are soon to be in need of a change of dressing. We can handle that much quicker from there.” Lightning meowed, “I know everyone is still exhausted, and hurting, from the battle. This is why we’re starting the day off early: we have the time to travel slowly, carefully, and with respect to every cat’s needs.”

“It is time for the first lesson for our former Rancor cats.” Otter meowed, his voice warm and persuasive as he climbed down the tree trunk, “You are Clan Red Claw now. This means we help each other, any cat with strong, steady paws, join up with a cat who is injured or weak. Help them, so that if you are ever injured, you know a friend will help you, instead of just leaving you on your own.”

There was a soft murmuring in the throng, and then, tentatively, she cats and kits merged into the throng of weary Skyclan cats, shyly offering shoulders to lean on.

The trek back to Red Claw’s camp was, thankfully, uneventful if slow.

“How bad of a storm are we looking at?” Quailfur limped his way to Lightning’s side.

Lightning lifted her gaze up to the clouds as a stiff wind blew at their backs. She could feel the tension building above, and the winds that stirred everyone’s fur was warm, but blew straight through fur like it wasn’t even there. If it carried rain, a cat would be soaked to the skin in seconds. “Bad. It’s building above us like a river about to break over its banks. When it lets loose, it will be like drowning on dry land if you’re out in it.”

Quailfur shuddered.

There was a slight hesitation at the entrance to camp, but Quick Claw In The Dark strode calmly through the entrance and called, “Come on everyone! The winds have blown away the rank Rancor smell!”

“All right, every cat split up. She-cats, join the warriors, and a few of you may have to sleep in the Pupil’s Den for now. Queens, take your kits to the nursery. No, I promise, it’s not permanent. It’s just for now. I swear to you on the Skies Above that Bane’s rules died with him.” Lightning reassured the scowling queens. “Please, the skies are going to open up any second, and you really, _really_ don’t want to be caught out in it.”

“Rainstar, will you and Silver Moon join me in the leader’s den please? Your kits will be fine in the nursery for a little while.” Mist lead them into the spacious den as Silver Moon’s eyes widened in shock, taking in the den that housed the six of them in relative comfort.

Almost as soon as the last tail vanished inside a den, there was a great booming crack of thunder above them. Then the skies opened up.

Foliage bent under the heavy deluge and a roar like a waterfall filled every cat’s ears. It was as though a silver wall made of water had fallen from the clouds; the rest of the camp vanished behind the silvery veil and visibility was reduced to half a tail length.

“Skies Above!” Silver Moon murmured, peering out and then nervously drawing back. “You’re right, I wouldn’t want to be stuck at the old camp in this!”

“Silver Moon, did you ever wonder why Lightning taught you how to hunt and left you on your own?” Mist’s question made the queen flinch.

Slowly, she turned to face the four siblings. “A bit. I know you both were following me for those two days. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Because you needed to be on your own,” Mist curled his tail around his front legs. “Lightning taught you how to hunt because you needed to be given a sporting chance.”

“I…don’t understand.” Silver Moon meowed.

“You were born after Bane took over. You lived all your life obeying his rules. They were all you knew. And yet, you broke those rules. You dared to defy them, and you chose to escape despite the danger that you knew had to be out there.” Mist’s gaze bored into the queen solemnly. “You took a big risk, but you knew that sometimes the rules are wrong. You challenged them, you found out that the world was larger than you had thought, and you got to see something wondrous because of that.”

“A female clan leader.” Silver Moon looked at Rainstar with emotions chasing back and forth behind her eyes too quickly to identify.

“You learned how a real clan acts. You made friends and allies. In truth, you did more than the four of us could hope for.” Mist’s eyes were warm. “The loss of one truly did lead to the destruction of a clan. Now it’s time for the next great challenge… if you are ready.”

“Clan Red Claw needs a clan leader,” Lightning meowed. “That leader must be you.”

Silver shivered, “I… I don’t know… I have kits to raise.”

“You will have the support of your clan while you do. And your kits will be trained as equals. The four of us will be right there with you, to help you understand the laws that no other cat lived to remember. We will give you advice. You won’t be alone.”

Rainstar watched them with interest, “In Skyclan, the clan leader earns the name “star” to show that he or she walks with our ancestors.”

“In Clan Red Claw, our leader’s name becomes one of the great marks of the Skies Above; the sun, the moon, or a star.” Mist explained, “We were a bit preemptive with Silver Moon. In the future, it will not be so obvious and the next clan leader will be properly trained.”

“When the rain finishes washing our territory clean of Clan Rancor’s taint, we will hold the ceremony.” Lightning promised.

Silver Moon looked dazed.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Otter murmured, “and there’s more yet to come. We still have to split the clan. Lightning told us that Skyclan needs she-cats badly.” He glanced at Rainstar who nodded, “We need she-cats _and_ toms. They are welcome to make the decision, but we also need to be sure that Clan Rancor’s territory isn’t abandoned due to bad memories.”

“Don’t be afraid. He honest, but kind when you talk to them.” Mist offered, “Remember, they’re going to have a female leader no matter which clan they go to, and toms will never lord it over them the way they did in the past.”

“A-All right. I will think about what to say.”

“Take your time.” Lightning reassured her, “Everyone will likely fall asleep in the dens long before the rain stops. Everyone is still too tired to think about anything but how comfortable the nests are. I doubt they even notice that the nests are stale.”

Suddenly Otter signaled for silence. He tipped his head this way and that, his ears stretched to their utmost as he lowered his head toward the ground. Then his eyes flew wide.

“Brace yourselves!” he gasped. “The earth is on the move!”

Beyond the camp walls, a rumble grew to a roar; it was so loud that it drowned out the sound of the rain. The ground beneath their paws shuddered, and a slow creak swelled into a mighty snapping sound, as though great trees were being broken to splinters. The roar continued long past the time were even a mighty lion could have sustained his voice. Even over the rain, cries of fear rang out throughout the camp. Slowly the rumble in the earth faded away, and the rumble of rain took back over.

“Did anyone get hurt?” Silver Moon cried, leaping to her paws. “Skies Above! My kits! The nursery!” She made as if to charge out into the deluge.

“Silver Moon stop!” Lightning’s voice cracked out with authority, “You cannot charge blindly into this.”

Silver Moon shuddered, “B-but…”

“Point your nose directly toward the ground,” Otter ordered. “The rain must pour in the direction of the ground, not into your nose or mouth. Place one paw directly in front of the other. The nursery is...” he gently aimed her in the right direction, “straight ahead of you. Go slow, watch every step you make and keep a straight line. Make sure everyone is all right. The rest of us will check the other dens.”

Silver Moon quivered with the need to race ahead, but she slowly padded out into the deluge as she had been ordered, vanishing almost instantly into the rain.

“Lightning?” Otter asked, when the she-cat padded up to the entrance as soon as Silver Moon was gone.

“I’ll check on the Pupil’s den,” Lightning reassured them. “I’ll keep the young cats calm.”

“Rainstar, maybe you had better go to the Warrior’s den. I think most of your own warriors are there. They’d feel better if their leader came to check on them.” Ghost blinked gently at the clan leader, correctly guessing where she wanted to go. “Walk a straight line from… here.” His fluffy tail marked the direction the Skyclan leader had to take.

Ghost and Otter sat anxiously at the entrance to the den, ears perked anxiously. They wanted to check on the camp too, but knew it was too dangerous to too many cats to wander blindly. Silence fell as the she-cats faded into the rain, and all that was left was the splashing of water.


	15. Chapter 15

Despite the terror that clutched her heart, which fluttered like a bird, Silver Moon was immediately grateful that Otter had shown her how to move. Rain pounded down in her, as though trying to press her flat to the earth before washing her away like a piece of wood. Water poured down her face, and she was forced to breathe through her mouth as a thick trickle of water engulfed her nose before falling to the ground. She had to squint her eyes almost shut and blink rapidly to keep water out of her eyes. She could barely see.

She had overhead Lightning’s comment about drowning on dry land. At the time, she had thought that the she-cat had been exaggerating. Now? Now she knew that it had been no exaggeration.

One paw in front of the other, she waded through flowing water that covered her paws. If she could just get…

Suddenly the water pouring down her face stopped, and she raised to head to see that she was partially under cover, with the nursery’s entrance just ahead of her.

“Is everyone all right?” she called, “Patter? Starlight?”

“Mama! You came! There was a huge rumble! We though the ground was going to eat us up!” Patter popped her head out.

“I thought so too.” Silver Moon meowed, relief washing through her as she saw that everyone seemed to be safe and accounted for. Whatever had happened had been outside the camp. She shook water out of her fur and joined the other queens, laying down to nurse her kits as she spoke soothingly to them and smoothed anxious pelts.

Dimly, she heard Lightning call through the rain. “The Pupil’s den is safe! No one harmed!”

Silver Moon popped her head out briefly. “Nursery safe! Just a little shaken!”

There was a silence. Then... “Warrior’s den safe! We can all rest until the rain stops!”

Fortunately, the rain didn’t last much longer. The pounding water slowed to a more normal rain, then died away completely. Water gurgled as it drained out of the camp, leaving the dens safe and dry. As late afternoon sun broke through the clouds, the warmth of a Leafgrow day began the long task of drying the ground.

Otter soon made his rounds to the dens, encouraging every cat to stay where they were. “I think I know what happened, but I’m going to check it out,” he explained, “The river will still be too high to fish in and prey will still be hiding. Silver Moon, when you’re, ah, done… please join me. Both of us should see what happened, and word will spread faster if you help me relay it.”

Silver Moon’s whiskers twitched at his moment of awkwardness in reference to the kits still at her belly, but nodded.

 

.

 

The ground was very muddy, and in some places, the stuff sucked at their paws. When Silver Moon commented on it, Otter nodded, “It also means floods will have engulfed the river. Watch your step, or you will find yourself being swept away by currents that had never been there before.”

They slipped through the undergrowth carefully, ears tracking the sound of rushing water and peering cautiously past each plant that got in the way. Finally, they arrived at their destination, and Silver Moon could only stop and stare. They were at the Resting Place, but not as it had been. Where a great pit had been, was a shallow lake.

Earth and trees had given way under the rain and filled the pit: it had buried the bones and bodies of the deceased cats who had been left in it beneath tons of dirt, stone, and plants. As such, the pit had doubled in width, but halved in depth. The ground that had fallen in had been part of a stretch of land separating the pit from the river. Now, flowing heavily, the water had followed its new course into the pit and filled it before continuing to wend its way along its original path. Even in drought, this would be a pool of water for the clan and a miniature lake to paddle in. A few trees floated in the water, swirling slowly in the sluggish current.

“The cats have been given a proper burial,” Otter murmured. “Those trees will eventually sink and form nooks and crannies for fish to hide. The vulture and the crows will leave. Our Skies Above Ancestors did indeed come through.”

“We can teach young cats to swim and fish safely here!” Silver Moon meowed eagerly.

Otter nodded and purred. “The last of Bane’s reign has been erased.” He turned and looked at her, “Do you think you are ready to become the leader on the clan?”

Silver Moon swallowed, “Is there really no one else? Any one of the four of you know more about the clan laws than I do, and you are the most experienced of any of us.”

The dark brown tom grimaced and then sighed, “Silver Moon, even ignoring all that you’ve gone through to earn leadership and independent thought, we need you. Every she-cat and kit that has been rescued has suffered under Bane’s rule. They are not inclined to take kindly to yet another tom making the rules. We need a female leader to guide us, and it cannot be any of the four of us who rule.”

“Why not?”

Otter exhaled slowly, “We have all lived together since kithood. We have relied on one another heavily for survival. Not one of us has ever had authority over the others. We cannot start now… And besides…” Silver Moon was shocked speechless when Otter sagged and looked very, very tired. “The four of us have shouldered the responsibility of resurrecting an entire clan our entire lives. We are exhausted, and now that the clan has returned, we are a little bit lost. The return of the clan has been on our minds all our lives. We no longer have that to guide our every waking moment. It’s time for us to retire to a much gentler life of hunting prey and teaching Pupils.”

Silver Moon’s eyes softened and she draped her tail over his shoulders, “Mist and Lightning told me all you went through. If I am truly meant to be the leader, then I will do my best… for everyone.”

“Good. That’s what a good leader does. And it’s time to start training you for the burden you will have to bear. Your Leadership Ceremony is tonight; and the full moon will bless it. And you have a big decision to make even before you can take the lives granted to you by the Skies Above.”

Silver Moon took a deep breath and let it out. “Dividing the clan.”

Otter nodded.

“I think I know what to say. Let’s tell everyone now so that they can have time to make their decision.”

 

.

 

Otter and Silver Moon padded into camp on the tail of the female warrior hunting patrol. A surplus of prey was being distributed among the cats, and Silver Moon’s belly gave a sharp pang of hunger as she realized that she hadn’t eaten since before the raid on Clan Rancor’s camp the morning before.

As soon as she realized how hungry she was, Reed padded over with a rabbit in her jaws. “Silver Moon, would you like to share this with me? I know you need to report your findings to the clan, but take at least a few mouthfuls first. You need to keep your strength up if you are going to make milk for your kits.”

Silver Moon took more than a few: as soon as the taste hit her tongue, her hunger took over and she found herself hungrily devouring her half of the rabbit. The importance of her news faded temporarily as food slid down her throat.

But she didn’t make everyone wait for too long. Everyone was still licking their whiskers clean when Mist caught her eye and nodded to a pine tree with a sturdy branch well above the ground where every cat could see.

Silver Moon nodded and leaped onto the trunk, digging her claws in deep to the velvety bark and perching a bit nervously high above the cats she had known all her life. “Clan Red Claw and Skyclan allies, it is time to gather together for a clan meeting.”

When she had everyone’s attention she began, “First of all, it has come to my attention that Clan Red Claw is to have a leader, and I am also told that I will be that cat.” Silver Moon tried not to let her trembling show. She expected an outcry, but instead, several cats nodded. She let out a breath, “I will be going to Clan Red Claw’s sacred place in order to receive the leadership ceremony tonight.” The soft rumble of purrs from the throats of several cats bolstered her spirit.

“Secondly, I know you have all been wondering about the sounds we heard during the rainstorm. I have wonderful news for every cat! The Skies Above have blessed Clan Red Claw’s revival by collapsing the Resting Place. It is no more!”

She waited for the cries of relief and excited chattering to die down before continuing, “The earth and several trees have buried the bodies of those who have died before us. We no longer have to fear the crows and the vulture.” She described the new pond and the benefits it would bring the clan to have water and a gentle pool for swimming in so close to the camp. “From now on, it shall be known as the Clearpool.”

“There’s more. It is time to show my deepest gratitude to Rainstar and her warriors for coming to our aid and helping our clan return from the brink. Skyclan made a deal with Mist and Lightning. In return for their help, I am now going to give everyone a choice to make. Clan Red Claw needs Pupils, she-cats and toms. If any toms from Skyclan wish to stay and become Clan Red Claw warriors, they may remain and be welcome. Queens, young toms and she’s alike, you have a decision to make. If you choose to remain here, you will be trained as warriors. Yes, both. Bane’s reign is gone. She-cats will be treated as equals to toms. She-cats and pupils who want to start their lives over entirely can choose to follow Rainstar and her remaining toms back to Skyclan, a place where cats are mighty jumpers and climbers.” Murmuring spread beneath her as cats began to gather and discuss their options.

“Rainstar, leader of Skyclan, I too have an announcement to make.” Reed’s voice rang out, bringing silence to the crowd. “As Clan Red Claw’s new remedy seeker, I have checked every cat’s wounds. Your warriors will be fit to travel tomorrow.”

“Then that is when we will take our leave,” Rainstar dipped her head gratefully to the she cat.

“Then let that be the deadline.” Silver Moon meowed, “all cats must have made their decision by then.”

Her claws made and audible scrape that seemed to signal the end of the meeting as she leaped down and padded to a warm place in the sun to nurse her kits.

Silver Moon cracked at eye open at the faint padding of paws and saw Mist approaching her. “That was very well done. Don’t worry, it will get easier.”

“I hope so,” she sighed watching as cats from both clans mingled and murmured to one another.

Mist organized the evening patrols to the clan’s borders, careful to mix Skyclan and Red Claw cats together; giving everyone the opportunity to work with their allies as well as get a taste of the duties they would fulfill for the rest of their lives. When everyone came back, it was as if a flock of chattering birds had flown into the camp.

Conversation picked up as cats began to get more animated after conversing with the visitors. It seemed like everyone was lively and eager to discuss their options.

“I said I’m staying!” an angry voice snarled, “If you want to go, then go! But you’re not dragging me with you!” The speaker was a young tom with pale yellow fur.

Heads whipped around to stare at the argument developing in full view of the two clans.

“I’m going and you are coming with me! You are MY kit and you will travel with me if I tell you to!” spat a she-cat with brown and cream fur.

“Stupid she-cat! You don’t own me! Maybe it would have been better if you were culled if you’re going to act like this!” Venom laced his words as he glared at her.

“Web! Dawn! Stop arguing at once!” Silver Moon bounded across the camp, her expression thunderous. Any cat not quick enough to scramble out of the way of the angry new leader was simply jumped over. “Dawn! Shame on you! You’re acting just like Bane!”

Her harsh words had the desired effect. Denial, then horror and then guilt and shame washed over the queen’s face and she stared at Silver Moon, at a complete loss of words.

“That is no way to talk to your son! He has a decision to make, as does everyone else! If he chooses to stay, then that is a decision that only he can make. No cat; tom, queen or kit; can make the decision for anyone else! If he chooses to stay, then he will stay and be welcome. If you choose to leave, then go to your new life with our blessings, but without him.” Silver Moon lashed her tail and glared at the queen unflinchingly.

Dawn lowered her gaze.

“And you, Web! You are no better!” she turned to give him an equally thunderous glare, “If the word ‘culled’ comes out of your mouth ever again, you…” she grasped for a punishment from Skyclan and seized upon the one she remembered being the most loathed by Skyclan apprentices, “you will have a moon doing nothing but putting mouse bile on ticks! Bane is gone, and the things he did were horrible and must never ever be committed ever again. No cat should ever wish for Bane’s terrible rules to return! Agree or disagree, Dawn is still your mother! If she chooses to leave, then tomorrow will be the last time you ever see her!”

Seeing the young tom looked properly scolded, Silver Moon let her fur lie flat again and spoke more compassionately, “Don’t let her go with such hateful words ringing in her ears. Try to understand that she just wants you to be with her and live a life that she feels would be better. With Bane, she never would have had that option, and she probably still feels his shadow here. Speak from your heart.”

She cast a glance around, “That goes for every other cat having trouble deciding. Only you can decide, but understand that you will live with the consequences of that decision. Whether you stay and be a Pupil of Clan Red Claw or an apprentice of Skyclan, your decision will affect the rest of your life. Choose wisely, and speak kindly to the cats you will be separating from. Whether or not they will be your clan mates in the future doesn’t change the fact that many of them are your kin.”

When silence prevailed, Silver Moon turned and padded back across the camp. Her thoughts scrabbled miserably between her ears. She wished she hadn’t compared them to Bane; his methods were best forgotten. Bringing him up only stirred bad memories, but a part of her also felt that the clans needed to hear those words, harsh as they were. He had left marks on the heart of every cat, and they would take a long time to fade. Every cat would have to fight their own battles to avoid becoming like him.

She watched across the camp as a contrite but firm Web spoke to his mother. They were too far away to be heard, but Dawn’s ears were perked and her expression was sorrowful but attentive. Silver Moon hoped that they would be able to separate peaceably.

As her eyes swept the camp, a pair of piercing yellow eyes met her own. Petalpaw.

The young cat locked eyes with the new clan leader for a heartbeat, then put her whiskers forward and purred.

Relief washed through the silver queen. Although she didn’t understand the strange ability that the young she-cat held in her paws, it was comforting to see her approval.

Her gaze swept over the camp, and rested briefly on The Four. They would become legends to Clan Red Claw. Even beyond their own lifespans, stories of their lives would be told to every kit born in the nursery. There wouldn’t be a Red Claw alive who didn’t know of The Four and what they fought for, sacrificed for and lived to bring back from the brink. It was intimidating, in a way, to be told that she would be clan leader, and give orders to the cats who had done so much more than she ever could.

Lightning padded over to Silver Moon, “It’s time.”


	16. Chapter 16

Silver Moon looked up from her musings and blinked blankly at The Four for a heartbeat, then shivered with understanding. It was time, all right. Time for the most important ritual in her life, and one that would set her apart from every other cat.

“All right,” she told Patter and Starlight, “I have to make a very important trip tonight. I want you to behave yourselves. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“I’ll keep them entertained,” Evening promised, padding over, “and we’ll keep an eye on the clans tonight. We’ll even make sure they remember to get some sleep.”

The sounds of the camp faded behind the group as darkness stole across the sky and bathed Red Claw territory in silver light.

“It’s a full moon.” Ghost meowed approvingly, “our ancestors are lighting our way.”

“It’s really happening.” Something small and sad in Lightning’s mew made Silver Moon glance at her in surprise. “We trained and prepared for this day and finally… it’s happening. There were times that I thought…” The she-cat snapped her jaws shut and swallowed.

“But we made it happen,” Otter meowed bracingly, “It worked so much better than we could ever have hoped. I think, at some point, our ancestors shared tongues with Skyclan’s, and the plan was formed between the two. Why else would their Starclan send so many males?”

They were heading to a part of the territory Silver Moon had never seen, on the opposite side of their territory from where the battle had taken place. How had The Four come to know this place?

The stream that flowed through their territory had swelled in size, and a dull roar filled her ears. They crested a rise… and found themselves at the brink of a waterfall.

Silver Moon’s eyes stretched wide as she peered over the edge, and found herself staring at a massive pool far below. Spray from the river frothed and misted around massive stone fangs that protruded up from the pool like the lower jaw of some impossibly large cat.

“Mist…” she breathed, awed.

“Yes.” The tom answered her unspoken question. “We came here when we were only four seasons old. Our last surviving elder, Tall Pine, lead us here two at a time. A Rancor tom spotted us, and attacked right away. He never expected us to know how to fight, and certainly not as well as I did. Otter and Tall Pine were caught by surprise. I was not; I had seen him out of the corner of my eye as Tall Pine explained us how we were going to climb down. The Rancor cat leaped on me, thinking I would be the easiest to kill; I was still rather small and lean compared to my brother and my broad shouldered elder. I turned to meet him. He was so large and heavy that I just used the Roll and Toss maneuver like I had been taught for dealing with bigger cats. We were on the slope, near the edge, and his momentum was too high. I pitched him clean off the edge, into the teeth below.”

They were all silent for a moment, and then Mist shook his fur out and meowed, “Come on. The way down is right there.”

There was a ledge just a bit below the edge of the cliff, and the stone formed a small slope into the darkness of a tunnel.

The water roared in Silver Moon’s ears as she followed him into darkness, using her whiskers to make her way through the darkness. The tunnel was a long, gentle switchback path down to the bottom of the waterfall. Air, leaden with moisture blew her whiskers back as they came out onto a path that led behind the wall of silvery water into a cave.

“Silver Moon On Snow, welcome to the Den of Dreams.” Ghost meowed. “Here is where you will gain your nine lives. In the future, you will come here every full moon to share tongues with our ancestors. You will bring no more than three pupils with you at one time to guard the entrance. Here too, will your remedy seeker and her apprentice come.”

In the dim light, Silver Moon saw that the cave was carpeted by thick moss, and a slow drip at the very back collected into a pool no larger around than a cat curled in her nest.

“Lie down, and lap a single mouthful of the water. You will dream.” Lightning meowed, and demonstrated, sinking into a trance at the water’s edge.

Nervously, feeling like an outsider in these hallowed walls, Silver Moon obeyed and closed her eyes.

 

.

 

Mist opened his eyes and found himself by the shores of the Clearpool. Lightning, Ghost and Otter were beside him, just opening their eyes. Across the pool, he could see several starry coated cats padding over to greet Silver Moon.

“The leader ceremony is for the leader alone,” came a deep, calm voice behind Mist. “No one else but the clan leader and her ancestors are to be a part of it” A broad shouldered, dark gold tom padded out of the underbrush behind them.

“Not even us, Golden Sun?” Mist meowed, pretending to sulk.

Golden Sun Over Hills snorted, but his thick whiskers twitched in amusement. “No, not even The Four. Besides, I am here with a gift for the four of you.”

There was a distant howl of rage, and all four cats whipped around to stare in horror in the direction of the camp.

“Skies above no!” Lightning gasped. “I know that voice! He’s here?!”

“It’s all right.” Golden Sun meowed, “We have things under control. Besides,” the old clan leader’s eyes softened, “you’ve all done enough.”

Another cry echoed, this time in shock and horror.

Lightning flinched and glanced across the water. A cat was touching her muzzle to Silver Moon’s head. It seemed that whatever was happening in the Red Claw Ancestor’s camp, it wasn’t disturbing Silver Moon’s ceremony.

There was a rustle, and Mist stared down at the small pile of chamomile at his paws. They were green and healthy, but oddly edged with silver light, as though moonlight had been trapped within the plant itself.

“I cannot take back the hardships you have endured. I cannot return to you the kithood that you lost. There are no words to describe how much our hearts ached to see your four on your lonely, blood soaked path. But we can offer you this. These herbs grow here, where all things are at their greatest strength.” Golden Sun closed his eyes sadly. “Please accept them.”

“Golden Sun… we understand why…” Otter began.

“Perhaps you do, and perhaps that gives you comfort, cold though it may be. Take the herbs anyway. They will aid you in the moons to come.”

Mist shrugged and swallowed the herbs down, feeling a soothing warmth start to spread outward from his belly and infuse him from nose to tail tip.

“With these herbs, I release you from your burden,” Golden Sun meowed solemnly, as a lethargic wave washed through them all. “No longer do you carry the burden laid upon you by the prophecy spoken of before you were even born. From now on, walk with your clanmates, and may the rest of your days be as gentle as the Leafgrow sun.”

Darkness slowly filled Mist’s eyes as the scene faded, and then melted away.

When he woke up, the gentle warmth was still flowing through him. He blinked lazily as his siblings stirred beside him. He felt… good. The hard memories of his kithood were beginning to melt away like fog in a hot sun, and the lifetime of hard decisions and cold blooded kills drifted away. He was left feeling strong and brave, supported by his clan. This, he realized, was how he should have felt. If Clan Red Claw had never had to make the sacrifice, this feeling would have been his for his entire life. With the chamomile suffusing his being, he was becoming a proper Red Claw warrior. A glance around showed that his siblings were coming to the same realization.

Lightning closed her eyes. ‘Thank you Golden Sun,” she meowed softly.

Silver Moon was the last to awaken, but not by much. Unlike The Four, she looked worn out by her ordeal. Receiving her nine lives had been overwhelming.

Ghost led the way out, and back to the top of the waterfall. No one spoke until they reached the top. Then the ghostly gray tom turned to look at her, “Silver Moon, you have been set apart from the rest of the clan in ways that no one else but future leaders will ever truly understand. We Four will do our best to help you as you gain confidence as a clan leader, but even we cannot make the decisions that now rest upon your shoulders. Always consider the advice you receive carefully before you do.”

Silver Moon nodded tiredly, and the group padded back to camp to catch a little sleep before the sun rose. The camp was dark and silent, though everyone was gratified to see that Rain in Fading Light and Kestrelwing stood as guards while the rest of the camp slept.

 

.

 

Silver Moon hesitated at the grassy path leading to the leader’s den. It was a path she had long feared throughout her life; Bane’s den. No she-cat approached the den willingly.

She took a deep breath and let it out. This was the leader’s den, and Silver Moon was leader now. She wasn’t going to let Bane’s shadow taint the camp, not even in the farthest corners. Boldly, she padded into the grass lining the short path to the cave. Grass tickled her belly and she had a brief vision of her kits giggling as they followed her here.

As leader, she would not sleep in the nursery, and tomorrow they would join her. It was too late to wake them up and move them now. That would also mean her kits would have to get a stern talking to about not thinking themselves superior over their fellows. They would be fellow warriors when they grew up.

The den had a wide entrance, and the air remained fresh. There was no trace of Bane’s scent here, not even in the farthest corner. A nest had been built for her inside; fragrant and soft.

“This is the den of Red Claw’s clan leader.” She whispered, listening to her own voice echo faintly off the walls. “So it is, so it shall be for moons upon moons.”

The words felt right, and the last traces of hesitation whisked away from her thoughts as a gentle breeze blew inside and capered about like a playful kit before leaving. The sharp scent of pine and the reassuring scent of allies and clanmates lulled her to sleep.

The morning’s hunting patrol returned right about the time that Silver Moon awoke and left her den to talk to Rainstar.

“Please eat before you all go,” Silver Moon invited, “You have a long trek, and the queens and kits who will be joining you will need their strength for the long journey ahead.”

“That is a very generous offer Silver Moon. Thank you. I accept.” Rainstar mowed warmly. “And thank you too, for… well…”

“Call us even, and allies.” Silver Moon meowed. “You helped us be reborn. And with the she-cats who will go with you, we will be helping you do the same.”

The two leaders shared a find meal, side by side as the rest of the clan did the same.

“Skyclan, the time has come,” Rainstar finally called.

All the toms who had come: Cedarfoot, Coldwind, Quailfur, Kestrelwing, Juniperbranch, Thistlepath, Highleap and Eaglepaw; murmured their final goodbyes to one another, and divided to opposite sides of the camp.

Quailfur, of course, was staying with Lightning. Kestrelwing, Juniperbranch, and Coldwind padded over to join him.

Cedarfoot, Thistlepath, Highleap and Eaglepaw were leaving. A bit more reluctantly, queens, she-cats and kits separated into their prospective groups. Dawn and Web touched noses a final time before parting.

“Goodbye Rainstar,” Silver Moon meowed, her gaze warm. “We may never meet again in this life, but I would like to meet with you in the Skies Above to share tongues.”

“Goodbye Silver Moon.” Rainstar purred deeply, “I am glad I got to watch you grow to be the cat who stands before me today. And I look forward to that day, even if it is long distant.”

“Goodbye Mist,” The two leaders turned to see Petalpaw purring to the silvery tom, “Thank you for teaching me during your time with us. I’ll always remember your wisdom and determination.”

“Hunt well Petalpaw. Thank you, for reminding me of the joys that come with youth.” He leaned a little closer to the young she-cat and murmured, “Use your powers wisely.”

Those piercing yellow eyes met his own, and the apprentice pressed her cheek to his own, “I promise I will. You do the same… I’m sure your Pupil will do my job and remind you, if you ever start to forget.”

Finally, Rainstar drew the cats behind her with a sweep of her tail before leading her cats out of the camp. The Red Claws followed, forming an honor guard to the edge of their territory. Skyclan all looked back a final time, before sweeping beyond the border of Red Claw territory.

The trip for them would be slow; the she-cats and kits would not be used to hard or long travel. But as Silver Moon watched the last tail vanish, she knew that their lives would be long and healthy.

Silver Moon blinked, a little sadly, as her friends vanished into the distance. Then as she looked over at the cats of her clan, she took a deep breath, put her whiskers forward and meowed, “The day has only just begun! Now, who wants to give themselves a good grooming? I think we have some Pupils to name!”


	17. Chapter 17

Bane groaned and slowly rolled to his paws in the darkness. _That thrice damned she-cat! How dare she murder a tom!_ Fury seared through Bane's veins. "Clan Rancor Ancestors! Rally to me! We will fall upon those wretched those Red Claws and they shall all be hunted down as they sleep!"

His voice echoed away into the darkness. Oddly, there were no answering cries of rage and bloodlust.

Slowly the darkness began to lift, and Bane spotted movement approaching. It took several heartbeats for the dark gray fur of Stingclaw to resolve itself. The tom looked nothing like the sad, blood soaked heap that had been thrown into the Resting Place.

Instead, his yellow eyes regarded Bane with cool indifference. His fur gleamed with health; glossy and smooth. He carried himself a little oddly though. He did not lower his head to show submission to his former leader. Instead, he walked tall, head up, tail rippling slightly behind him in an unconscious pattern so that his fur moved like tall grass in a gentle breeze.

"Bane, I have come to take you to the Skies Above." He talked a bit oddly too; he stated the words baldly, with no warm welcome in his mew.

Bane frowned, but then shrugged it off. Stingclaw had been punished. There was no point in dwelling. If the young tom showed promise, Bane was willing to accept him as part of the army to be led against Clan Red Claw.

The darkness continued to lift as he followed the tom, becoming the silvery brightness of the Rancor Camp beneath a full moon.

There was no sign of anyone else though. Familiar faces that should have been there to greet Bane were strangely absent.

"Stingclaw-" Bane began, but the cat interrupted him sharply.

"That is not my name anymore, Bane."

Bane went still, blinking. "Oh. Were you granted a new name when you joined Clan Rancor's Ancestors?"

An odd, dark humor flashed through the young tom's eyes. "Yes, I was given a new name by my ancestors. I am Sting Of Angry Wasp."

Bane reared his head back and gave Sting a look of disgust. "That's not a proper Rancor name! You should have demanded something more appropriate."

"Oh no, my dear leader; it's a _very_ appropriate name for me. Or should I say, ' _former_ leader'?"

Bane felt himself grow cold beneath his fur, but he held his ground, glowering down at the tom who was so much smaller than he was. "Dead or alive, I will be given respect." Bane snarled to hide his fear at Sting's casual disrespect. "Where are the she-cats every tom was to be given? Rancor Toms are given she-cats for his pleasure after his body comes to rest."

"She-cats?" Sting meowed sweetly, "Oh but they're here. And there are many of them."

Bane glanced at the nursery, but nothing stirred from that part of the camp.

Instead, the branches that narrowed the entrance to the Warrior's Den began to wiggle. And then a she cat flowed out from within. And another. And another.

Pleasure and anticipation withered away to unease, and then to fear as the she-cats kept coming. Not a single one of them carried herself as shy, submissive, or meek before Bane's gaze. Muscles rippled beneath their pelts. Eyes gleamed in the silvery light and they all met his gaze fearlessly. Not one of them dropped her gaze of challenge, and Bane found that he was the one to break the challenging stares as rank after rank of she-cats spilled forth. They moved silently, finding a place to sit so that the cats that came after her could walk and seat herself.

"Why, what's wrong Bane?" Sting meowed in mock concern, "You don't look like a mighty leader anymore. You look a little... frightened."

"Sting, what is the meaning of this? I came to rally our Ancestors to take revenge on those Red Claws. Why are all these females sporting those... those... _muscles_? And where are the Rancor toms who should have been here to greet me?" Bane searched in vain for the faces of his loyal inner circle, for the toms who should have come here after falling in the battle.

"Gone."

It was a simple word, but dread sprouted and grew into full bloom in Bane's chest.

"Oh don't get me wrong, some of us came here and were welcomed quite warmly. We were all given new names, our pasts forgiven and shed like an old snakeskin. But each of us agreed wholeheartedly that it should be the she-cats who should welcome _you_ here." Stingclaw waved his tail at the rank upon rank of she-cats that filled half of the clearing.

"Do you recognize any of them, Bane? No? Maybe you should look harder. Every she-cat here knows you very well, though I admit, some were kits when you last saw them. Some of them were culled by your orders. 'Worthless extras' you said. They are here, but grown up, as they should have been able to do while alive. Others you tormented and abused throughout their shortened lives. Many of them though, were slain because you lead the attack on Clan Red Claw that one fateful night."

Bane could feel tension beginning to spread around the clearing, and the eyes of the hostile she-cats did not waver from Bane's face.

Sting bowed his head in warm respect to the first she cat in line, "He is yours; unmarked and unharmed. I would, however, consider it an honor if I may be allowed to remain and watch."

"Stay and be welcome," the she-cat replied, her eyes equally kind to the young warrior.

"Traitor!" Bane howled in rage at Sting, fear making his voice crack even as he spat his venom at the young tom, "How dare you!"

"Traitor? Me?!" Sting have a nasty little laugh that was shared by several she-cats. "I would have been loyal to you, Bane, if you had taught me instead of making an Example of me. You betrayed _me;_ you had me tortured and then killed. You destroyed my loyalty so thoroughly that when I left my body behind, I shed every belief and lesson you and Clan Rancor had taught me. I'm a Clan Red Claw warrior, now and forever until I fade among the stars. And you Bane? It's time for the final Example to be made."

A single hiss shattered the unnatural silence that had enfolded the army of she-cats. The hiss was answered with another. A growl tore the air, and the threats spread like wildfire as Bane felt himself shrink in his fur as the first she-cat rose from the orderly line and launched herself at him.

Bane screeched in shock and horror, realizing that he was fighting for his life despite his superior size. He lashed and snapped: trying to give back what he got. But the she-cat was horribly fast for something so small; biting and clawing and then moving quickly before Bane could retaliate. Then he was sent reeling by a kick to the head.

He staggered, and struggled to his feet defiantly as the she-cat backed up, then turned her back on him and padded to the part of the camp that had been left conspicuously empty until now. She padded to the back of that space and sat down, the picture of calm. She began to groom her fur: which had only been ruffled, but not torn out, by her tussle.

Bane's eyes rested on her in confusion, and then he turned as the second she-cat that had waited patiently in the ranks rose and came at him.

"Clan Red Claw's greatest sacrifice was more than a death to preserve the lives of a few kits, Bane," Sting taunted him as the second she-cat left him bleeding, "it was also a weapon. If you had been closer to your Rancor Ancestors you would have wondered why no one warned you of Silver Moon's coming flight. You would have questioned just _who_ put the idea in her head to begin with. You would have had some warning of Quick Claw In The Dark's betrayal of you over the following half moon. Every cat you had murdered that one night rose and joined the Red Claw Ancestors to destroy Rancor's afterlife. There is nowhere for you to flee. There is no one left for you to rally for revenge. There is only this; the one last Example."

And then the third she-cat slammed Bane off his feet and pain wracked him as she fastened her teeth on his scruff and raked her claws down his back. She was only the third of many to come.

By the time darkness began to consume him, he was barely able to hear the words whispered into what remained of his ears. "You don't know me; I was killed by one of your followers. My name is Rainfall On Green Leaf, and this is for the innocence you ripped from my four kits."

Then there was a sickening crack, and the final blinding pain sent Bane spiraling away into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, my readers, for joining me on this journey. Believe it or not, this tale was inspired by a small part of the warriors series. It was a simple “What if…” that sank its hooks into me and would not let me go. Here is the excerpt from Warriors: The Darkest Hour, that gave me cold chills:
> 
> .
> 
> “I know you’re a fighter, Speckletail.” Firestar had thought carefully about what he was going to say, but with the elder glaring at him he felt like a raw apprentice again. “That’s why I need you here. There’ll be three other elders here, and Willowpelt’s kits. They’ve learned some defensive moves but they’re not ready for battle. I’m putting you in charge of the camp while the rest of us are away.”  
> “But I – Oh.” Speckletail broke off as she understood what Firestar was asking her to do. Slowly the fur on her shoulders lay flat again. “I see. All right, Firestar. You can count on me.”  
> “Thank you.” Firestar blinked his gratitude at her. “If the battle goes badly, we’ll try to fall back here and reinforce you, but we might not make it. If BloodClan comes here, you’ll be all that’s left of ThunderClan.” His eyes met Speckletail’s. “You’ll need to get the kits and elders away. Try to cross the river, then head for Barley’s farm.”  
> \--Warriors: The Darkest Hour
> 
> .
> 
> It was in this chapter that that questions flooded my mind. What if another clan faced total destruction at the claws of a clan like BloodClan? What if, in that clan, “BloodClan” won? What would happen if only a few elders and kits survived such a horrible tragedy? What would the kits grow up to be? How would the sad remnant rebuild and take back their home?  
> These questions became the building blocks for Clan Rancor and Clan Red Claw. I added a dash of Middle Eastern views of women/she-cats as being unequal to men/toms for a little bit of current events flavoring, and to give motive to Silver’s escape.
> 
> These were also the thoughts that drove me to make Skyclan a clan of mostly toms in “Innocence Taken.” What better encouragement to help liberate she-cats and queens than the hope of saving Skyclan from its own possible extinction? It would give Clan Red Claw the warriors it needed for a full battle, and a team to help rescue the entire nursery’s population.  
> I hope you enjoyed this more “adult” angled story.


End file.
